CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION, | 


CHAPTER I. 


Anglophobia—Insult to Lord Lyons—The ‘‘ Voltaire’s "’ Short Memory—Scene 
in the French Chamber—An English Criticism—French Republic—Une Na- 
tion des Singes a Larynx de Perroquets. : 


CHAPTER I. 


Horrible Paris—St. Denis—Rue des Cascades—Menilmontant—“ Le Cri du Peu- 
ple ’’ and the Students—An English Writer on Paris. 


CHAPTER Ii. 


-Englishand French Heroism contrasted—Some Historical Reminiscences— 
Crécy—Poitiers—Agincourt—The Fiends of the Revolution—The Imbecility 
of the Republic—Bismarck’s Opinion of French Soldiers, 


CHAPTER IV. 


A Challenge to M. Hector France—La Femme des Rats—A Bull-fight at Aix- 
en-Provence—Les Sculptres Vivants—Bal Bullier in Paris—The Can-can 
—How Young France takes its Pleasure, 


CHAPTER V. 


M. Jules Ferry’s Little Joke—French Morality—French Hypocrisy—French 
Crime of Vitriol Throwing. 


‘ CHAPTER. VI. 


The Deformed Feet of the French—French Vanity—The use of English things 
in France—A Frenchman Cousin to the Virgin Mary—The Spread of the 
English Language and the Decline of the French—Marseilles, a Sodom and 
cansar gees get of French Peasantry—The French Budget—Position of 

rance, 


CHAPTER YIl. 


French Dueling and its Absurdity—The Valor of M. Jules Valles—The Decora- 
tion of the Legion of Honor—French Officialism: its Arroganee and Im- 
pertinence—The Paris ‘‘ Figaro ”’ on Official Jobbery and Dishonesty—* Lib- 
erté, Kgalité, Fraternité "—The Brotherhood of Cain—‘* Be my Brother or 
Iwill Kill you”—The French Police—The Spy System—The Torture in 
French Prisons, 


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https://archive.org/details/johnbullsneighboOOunse 


vi -OONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


Justice in France, how it is Mocked and Burlesqued—The Marquis de Ray— 
The Charenton Murder—The Sentimentality of French Jurors—A Shame- 
ful Case in Nice—Napoleon’s Mot—‘ The French have no Civic Courage” 
—The Bad Drainage of Paris—Failure of the Water Supply—Absinthe and 
Eau-de-Vie—The Awful Drunkenness of France—The Suicides. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A French Bedroom. Salle & Manger, Cuisineé—Home Life—The Lady and her 
’ Daughters—A French Idea of Pleasure—Late Hours—Chicory—Coffee— 
French Wine: How it is Adulterated—The French Habit of Spitting into a 
Tumbler at the Dinner Table—French Politeness: Where is it? In a 
Frenchman’s Hat! 


CHAPTER X. 


French Soldiers—Officers: their Ignorance and Brutality—Barracks: their Un- 
wholesomeness and Dirt—The Morale of the Army—The Duke of Welling- 
ton’s Reply to Louis XVIII.—The Franco-Prussian War—The French scared 
by Bogus Soldiers—The Disgrace of Sedan. 


CHAPTER Xi. 


The French Press: its Venality—‘‘ Le Temps” and L7ndon “ Telegraph” con- 
trasted—** Des Debats ’—** Le Figaro ’’—“ Le Clarion ’’—Press Laws—Fear 
of Actions for Libel—Want of Freedom. 


CHAPTER X11. 


French Cooking and English Compared—French Soups—Bouillon: How it is 
Made—Horseflesh. 


CHAPTER XIItI. 


The Frenchman in London—His Cat-like Love for his Haunts—His Dislike to 
*  fravel—Paris Municipal Council and the Hospitals—Social Life—How 
- Children are brought up—The Dot—French Courting—The Treatment of 
Infants—The general Unhealthiness of French Children—Illegitimacy— 
French Theaters—The English Flag and Liberty. 


INTRODUCTION. 


®-. 

For a long time our dear and generous neighbors overt the water 
have been delving and grubbing in verbal dust-heaps, in search of 
garbage to fling at ** ces bétes Anglais.’”’ Perhaps there is nothing in 
this that need cause astonishment, for no one nowadays, except old 
ladies and weak-minded people, hopes to discover that unknown 
quantity in human composition—gratitude; but, nevertheless, one 
does occasionally expect to meet with something like respect. Per- 
fide Albion has many sins, no doubt, lying at her door, and there are 
some pretty big blots on her escutcheon. She has also a goodly 
number of social ulcers that it would become her to use every en- 
deavor to heal; but as a leading actress in the World's great drama, 
to say nothing of her having played—and played successfully, too— 
the role of the Destiny-maker of other nations, it is not unreasonable 
to think that she is deserving of better fate in her tolerably respect- 
able old age than to be pelted with verbal mud, especially when it is 
remembered by whom the mud is flung. But when did conspicuous 
success not engender virulent jealousy on the part of those who, be- 
ing deficient in the tact and ability necessary to gain success them- 
selves, display their smallness of mind by snapping and snarling 
like ill-bred puppy-dogs? lt was more than probable that the French 
gentlemen who have lately been amusing themselves by scratching 
the pachydermatous hide of John Bull have but scant knowledge of 
two characters who figure in sacred history. Therefore, 1 would 
humbly and deferentially beg to direct their earnest attention to a 
little moral episode, having reference to these personages, who were 
known as Ananias and Sapphira, 1 think it is Mark Twain who is 
accredited with having once said of somebody, that he had such a 
sacred regard for truth that he never used it. The twu historical 
persons alluded to would seem to have had the same regard, and 
it is sad to relate that owing to this they made a painfully sud- 
den exit from the vale of tears. If this too true story were taken to .. 
heart more by Madame La France, it is safe to predict that the. 
moral standard of her volatile and eccentric children would be con- 
- siderably raised. At any rate, such statements as that put torth re- 
cently by M. Hector France, in ‘*‘ Va-nu-Pieds de Londres,’’ would 
scarcely have found their way into print. This gentleman, in a very 
wonderful book indeed, asserts, in sober seriousness, that there are a 
class of men in London who get their living by having their heads 
ea at the rate of from sixpence to eighteenpence per punch, 

e all know that it is necessary to go abroad to learn news of home; 
and M. France will possibly now have the kindness to tell us where 
and when these interesting peopleare to be found, and what their net 


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Vill : INTRODUCTION, 

earnings are per week? Having made this marvelous discovery in 
our midst, and of which we ourselves were entirely ignorant, the 
author proceeds in the same serious vein to state that he saw a Sal- 
vation Army captain, after preaching eloquently, slip away from his 
companions and drink half a pint of gin at a publie-house bar. It 
would add to the value of this statement if M. France told us where 
he was stationed when he saw ne astounding spectacle. He is cer- 
tainly gifted with a. marvelously penetrating vision, even for a 
Frenchman; but 1 trust he will not feel hurt if I venture on the re- 
mark that the ‘‘ half-pint of gin ”’ isa /eetletoo much. This is topped. 
hgwever, by the description of *‘a man and dog fight,’’ which M. 
France saw at ‘‘ Wapping.’’ It is foolish to expect that Frenchmen 
who have so much to engage their attention in their own beloved 
country should know anything of the contemporary history of their 
neighbors—excepting what it pleases them to know. Otherwise, the 
talented M. France might have remembered that not a decade ago a 
certain Mr. Greenwood contributed a very startling story, @ propos ot 
the same subject, to a London daily paper. ‘The scene of the story 
was not laid in Wapping; however, but Hanley. But though the 
Mayor of Hanley and the Corporation, assisted by sundry policemen, 
several detectives, and by Mr. James Greenwood himself, used every 
endeavor to authenticate the story, no trace whatever of the scene of 
the novel combat could be discovered; and after long and earnest in- 
vestigation the conclusion arrived at was, that a pork-chop supper 
had seriously disagreed with the distinguished journalist, and he had 
dreamed a dream. May I beg of M. France that in revising his book 
si a new edition he should remember the above well-authenticated 

act? 

However, as we, @.c., nous bétes Anglais, say, ‘‘ What is bred in 
the bone won’t come out.’’ Therefore, it is perhaps a somewhat 
hopeless task to look for truth in the scribbling gentlemen who hail 
from the other side of the Channel. The word was long ago expur- 
gated from their vocabulary, for they felt that while it remained 


_ they were too heavily handicapped. 


Of course the gentle Gaul perversely closes his eyes to the possi- 
bility of the ‘‘ Brutal Saxon ’”’ being in possession of any virtues: 
But, as we remember this, it naturally suggests to us the very fool- 
ish ostrich, who, when pursued by its enemies, buries its poor little 
head in the sand, thinking that thereby its whole body is hidden. So 
also, to use.a simile, ‘* Mossoo’’ imagines that by closing his eyes to 
the good qualities of his neighbors, the world quite fails to detect 
his own numerous faults. If it were necessary to classify these 
faults, they might be arranged under the respective headings of (1) 
an utter disregard for the truth; (2) the most consummate vanity; 
(3) a repulsive immorality; (4) Godlessness; (5) faithlessness; (6) un- 
cleanliness, moral and physical. 1 am aware that these would, in 
the aggregate, form a very heavy indictment, but then the most 
voluminous evidence is at hand to amply substantiate it. 

In venturing in my capacity of a ‘‘ Brutal Saxon,”’ on the forego- 
ing remarks, I do not forget the pretty story of the pot and the ket- 
tle; but nations, like individuals, while having many faults, may 
also be in possession of some virtues; though, us viewed through the 
spectacles of our charming Gallic friends, we are utterly virtueless. 


INTRODUCTION. ix 
It is terribly sad to reflect on this state of things, which, of course, 
must be true since Frenchmen tell us so. But, while bowing humbl 
to the charge, [ intend, with John Bullish obstinacy, to bring for 
into the light of publicity some of the little weaknesses and failings 
of our too kind neighbors. And in doing this, I shall endeavor to 
avoid exaggeration in the slightest degree. Nor must I forget to say 
that I am not unmindtul that there are many ennobling chatacter- 
istics which distinguish the French nation. In fact, I think 1 may 
go so far as to assert that, of all the nations of the earth, none have 
a higher appreciation of the French as a people than we unfortunate 
and brutal Saxons. Bat it may be as well to remind our neighbors 
that, as they live in a structure built of exceedingly transparent 
material, it might be more becoming if they displayed less readiness 
to throw stones. 


nl eos au? "i 


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sEa3 34 


#91 


John Bull's Neighbor in Her True Light. ~ 


CHAPTER I. 


Anglophobia—Insult to Lord Lyons—The ‘‘ Voltaire’s”” Short Memory—Scene 
in the French Chamber—An English Criticism--French Republic—Une Na- 
tion des Singes a Larynx de Perroquets. 

EvEeRryBopy knows that there is a disease in France called Anglo- 
phobia ; that it isa little worse than hydrophobia, and just as incura- 
ble. lt lies dorinant for some time, and then breaks out with terri- 
ble virulence, This disease during the last two years has been 
epidemic across the water and, from the gamins in the gutter to tho 
President of the Great Republic, it has run a very violent course. 
During these two years, the writersin the French Press have worked 
themselves into a perfect frenzy about poor o!d Johu Bull; and as 
French people, owing to their unbounded egotism, never rend any- 
thing but French papers and Irench books, they have naturally come 
to believe all that has been written about les Anglais. When one 
makes a strong statement, it is always wcll to be in a position to give 
indisputable proof in support of what is stated; and so, as evidence 
of the frenzy mentioned, 1 will citc on ably-edited pauper, over which 
M. Jules Ferry is said to exerciso some influence, namely, the ‘‘ Vol- 
taire,’’ which, in its icsue a fe\7 doys ago, wrote thus about our Em- 
bassador at Paris: 

“‘In reply to the letter in which Victor Hugo did Queen Victoria 
the honor of asking her to pardon O'Donnell, the English embassa- 
dor addressed Victor [lugo as Monsieur Je Senateur. As regards the 
refusal of the pardon, that will be a matter for the queen’s children 
and grandchildren, and those of her beloved eas aes The future 
‘has functions of its own. As to the incivility—I was going to sa 
the insult—of greeting Victor Hugo by the title of Senateur, I find it 
strong, albeit Iinglish. Why did not Lord Lyons, while he had the 
embassadorial pen in hand, describe the grand homme Irangais as 
Monsieur |’Academicien, since Victor Hugo is. quite as much an 
Academicien as a Senateur? It is probable, however, that when he 
wrote to the queen, Victor Huo did not call her cher confrére, but 
addressed her as ‘ Majesty.’ To describe Victor Hugo as M., le Sena- 
teur is a blunder. It is possible that in England the title of baronet 
is more highly prized than that of poet, hut in France it is quite the 
contrary. 1f Lord Lyons was selected as Embassador to Paris, it was 
solely because he had read the works of Victor Hugo, because he 
was capable of seeing the difference betwoen that immortal man and 
& mere senateur. If it were not so, the choice of Lord Lyons would 


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12 JOHN BULL’S NEIGHBOR. — 


have no raison d@’étre, and any one not able to read would represent 
Enyland just as well. os: igaaE ea acl 

If 1 reter to the above as silly impertinence, I shall use a term far 
too mild. 1t is alanost too strong for the coarse-mouthed gentleman - 
who presides over the fortunes of the villainous production known 
as ‘‘ La Lanterne;’’ but it did not appear in Henri Rochetort’s paper, 
but a ministerial argan. The time has been when such a dastardly 
insult as thisto England’s embassador would have led to a diplomatic 
correspondence, and perhaps something more. But we live ina 
Radical age, and are ruled by Radical Ministers, who have the in- 
terests of every country but. their own at heart... He must be a dull- 
ard indeed who does. not know that. Lord Lyons has been a true 
friend to France; and he has rendered himself conspicuous for his 
uprightness, his chivalric bearing, and splendid hospitality. I trust 
that there are still some Frenchmen who will blus} for the ‘‘ Vol- 
taire’’ when they remember the. historical fact that when the almies 

_of Bazaine and. MacMahon’ were led into captivity in Germany, the 

British Government consented, through the kindly offices of Her 

Majesty’s Embassador, to advance to the French officers confined in 

German towns and fortresses the sum of money adequate to make up 

aca pay to what it would have been had they been quartered in 
rance. 

“‘ Her Majesty’s Embassador ”? who performed this kindly act was 
Lord Lyons, upon whom M., Jules Yerry’s journal now heaps its en- 
venomed abuse. The grand homme Francais, of whom France. is 
justly proud, has no other title than that of M. Je Senateur, and al- 
thougb France may worship him all the world does not do so, He 
has written some splendid and stirring verses, some equally stirring 
dramas, and a good deal of questicnable prose. But the vanity 
peculiar to his countrymen ‘is somewhat stronger in him than in 
some of his compatriots, and nothing save his extreme age could 

aa his impertinence in writing to the Queen of a great country 
ike England on behalf of a vulgar assassin, who, after a long and 
exhaustive.trial, was justly condemned to death. Ot course the im- 
pertinence of M. Je Senateur was not likely to be noticed by the 
** Voltaire,’’ but, unfortunately for themselves, the memories of 
Frenchmen are singularly short when anything against themselves 
has to be remembered. Otherwise, the writer in the *‘ Voltaire,’’ be- 
fore venturing to insult Lord Lyons in such a base and cowardly 
manner, would have allowed his mind to travel back for a period 
under a year, when Prince Krapotkine was condemned toalong im- 
prisonment at Lyons. Possibly the ‘* Voltaire ’’ does not care to re- 
member that at that time a petition was sent to the French Govern- 
ment by a large number of: some of the most distinguished literary 
men in England, including, 1 believe, our own splendid poet Alfred 
Tennyson, compared with whom Victor Hugo sinks into insignifi- 
cance. Will the ‘‘ Voltaire’ kindly tax its memory in order that it 
may call to mind the how] that was raised in the French Press against 
the persons whose names were appended to that very generous peti- 
tion—how they were insolently told to ‘“‘ mind their own business, 
and not interfere in the affairs of a neighboring State?’’ Now it 
must not be forgotten that these petitioners were not pleading tor 
leniency to be shown to a vulgar, brutal assassin, but to a highly- 


JOHN BULLS NEIGHBOR. 13 


educated, distinguished, and conspicuously clever, if mistaken, 


man, But French Chauvinism was touched, and the English gentle- 
men who, out of the generosity of their hearts, pleaded for mercy on 


behalf of a misguided Prince, were abused in pot-house fashion by 


some of the ablest of French writers. It is not out of place to recall 
at this moment the reinark of the late M. Thiers, before he himself 


had. become touched with the taint of Republicanism: ‘*‘ La répub- 


lique est destinée toujours 4 tinir par l’imbécillité ou dans ‘Je 
sang.’’ 

Will anybody who has followed France in her movements during 
the last two or three years deny that the imbecility stage has been 
reached? and one is led to fear that the blood is not far off. Does 
not the following paragraph, cut from ‘‘ La France,’’ on the occa- 
sion of the departure of the Marquis Tseng tor Folkestone, after the 
fall of Sontay, read very much like the emanation of imbeciles?— 
“ The Marquis Tscng bus had to go. He could no longer: remain in 
Paris. In a week’s time he will want his passports. Until then he 
keeps quiet and quite right, too. Compliments of the season to M. 
lb Marquis!”’ 


Again, will any onc deny that the ccone in the I'rench Chamber on 
Saturday, December 29th, 1883, had not a closc resemblance toa — 
meeting of imbeciles? M. Ferry, in order to persuade the Chamber 
to renounce that prerogative of the exclusive initiative in financial 
matters which.M. Gambctta always contended was indisputably 
prescribed by the Constitution, and to accept for this oncc the resti- 
tution by the Senate of the funds for clerical scholarships, and of 


the 30,000 franes which, a fortnight previously, had been struck 


off the salary of the Archbishop of Paris, promised only to give the 
scholarships to cxisting students and to support a revision of the 
Constitution next year. Certain persons on the Extreme. Left were 
ill-bred enough to openly cxpress their want of faith in D1. Ferry’s 
proriiscs. Whereupon the President, exasperated. by these doubts, 
turned to that part of thc Chamber, and said: ‘‘I am speaking to 
those who honestly want a revision, not to those who clamor for it 
in the hopc that it will be refused.’’ 


This remark led to a ccene that defies all attempts to adequately 
depict. Ina voice of thunder M. George Perin roared, ‘* Explain 
yourself. \V/hom are you addressing?’”’ ‘‘ No one here,’’ answered 
the President. 1. Tony Rovillon then shouted, ‘‘ Whom else can it 
be?’”’ While other :nembers, springing to their teet and yesticulating 
like madmen, cried, ‘‘ We are tired of being insulted.”’ For some 
time the uproar was so great that no words could be heard, only one. 
great horrible roar of hoarse voices, At length M. Ferry was un- — 
detstood to say, ‘‘1 have nothing to retract.’’ This was too much 
for M. Clovis Hugues, who, standing on his seat and wildly beatin 
the air with his arms, roared, ‘‘ You are an insolent tellow.”’ 
tumult tollowed this, and these worthy, highly-vivilized gentlemen 
of the First Nation of the Earth (s%c) seemed as if theyewere going 
to fly at each other’s throats. Messieurs les Senateurs, if you were 
not guilty of imbecility on the occasion here alluded to, then 1 must 


confess 1o having no knowledge of the meaning of the word. Surely 
the shade of M. Thiers must have looked down on the disgracetul 


i 


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14 JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 
scene and smiled, as he saw how true his prediction had come. But, 
as an English Liberal newspaper* said the other day: 

‘“The French. Republic is more arrogant, more violent, morte ag- 
gressive, more energetic in demanding from the weak what the 
strong should never ask, than any empire or kingdom in the world. 
Democracy, we see now, can be as wicked as emperors and kings, 
whatever the Democratic Federation may say. The demand upon 
China for money is ridiculously tyrannical, But it is nothing like 


the demand upon Madagascar for the cost of the destruction of the — 


Sakalava seaboard. ‘I'he latter is barbarously cruel, and represents 
France in the very worst light,’’ | 


Distinguished Frenchmen themselves have not hesitated to freely 
lash their countrymen, and never have their national. weaknesses 
been more forcibly expressed than they were by #»« celebruted Abbé 
Sieyes, a French politician and publicist, and at one time Embassador 
to Berlin.+ .In a letter to Mirabeau he spoke of the French as 
‘* Une nation de singes 4 Jarynx de perroquets.’’ This, however, is 
but.a paraphrase of Voltaire’s celebrated remark in a letter which he 
addressed to Madame du Deffand, November 21st, 1766:—‘‘ Your 
nation is. divided into two species: the one of idle monkeys who 
mock at everything; and the other tigers, who tear.’’?. Nothing that 
any foreigner has ever written against France has been so terribly 
stinging and bitter as this—all the more stinging on account of. its 
tremendous truth. Any onc who knows Paris at the present day 
will not. need to he told that the idle monkeys are very conspicuous; 
while the tigers are lying perdu, thirsting for blood, and panting for 
the moment when they can commence again to tear and rend. 


Some recent returns state that there are-about 250,000 persons in 
‘Paris who have no visibic means of obtaining a livelihood. These 
figurcs represent an oxtraordinary percentage, when it is remem- 
bered that the population of the French capital is only a little more 
than 2,000,000. And these 250,000 blackguards—male and female 
~—hide their shameless heads in the dens and rookeries, the equal 
of which the worst parts of London cannot show. Eugene Sue’s 
** Mysteries of Paris’’ is us applicable now as it was when it was 
first written. It is true Paris has been extensively ‘* Haussmann- 
ized,’’ and during the Second Empire a great deul more gilt was 
added to the city, but the rookeries and the horrors remain, even 
though they have been edged closer.together. In the lurid year of 
1870, as all the world knows, the tigers came forth to take part in 
and gloat over the carnage and senseless «nd idiotic destruction. If 
hell had poured ‘orth its worst fiends, they could not have been 
move horrible, more cruel, more inhuman, more devilish, than were 
those devilish people. The hideous cruelty of the women and the 
insensate tury of the men could not be adequately described. 

lf MM. Jules Valles and A. Lancon, who have just published a 


* “ Mastern Morning News.” 


+ Emmanuel Joseph Sieyes, known as the Abbé Sieves, was born at Frejus, 
May, 1748, He was Vicar-General and Chancellor of,Chartres, and a member 
of the States-General ofthe National Assembly. of the Convention, of the 
eg Five Hundred, He lived in exile from 1815 to 1830, and died at 

aris : 


—-) 2 


JOHN BULL’S NEIGHBOR. 1b 


book entitled ‘‘ La Rue a Londres,’’* instead of crossing the Chan- 
nel to lay bare the ulcers of the World’s City, had only dived into 
theirown reeking and repulsive slums, they would have got more 
startling subjects for their clever pen and pencil than the greatest 
city in the world, with its population of nearly 5,000,000, could pos- 
set) furnish them with, But here again the Chauvinism asserts 
itself. The Anglophobia is running its course in Paris, and so these 
two gentlemen—clever writer and clever artist—cross to London, 
and shutting their eyes to its unequaled grandeur and magnificence, 
dive into its worst slums, and, dragging to light festering evils, give 
them pictorial and verbal images. Then they return to Paris trium- 
phantly, and say to their countrymen: ‘* Behold these English 

easts; these are ire types of our neighbors.”’ | 

In this same book, ‘‘ La Rue a Londres,’’ we are told that we do 
not know what comfort is. Oh, Messicurs, Messieurs, why, when 
you wrote that, did you not bear jn mind the terrible fate of Ananias 
and his wife? It was unworthy of such clever men as you to put 
such a shameless falsehood into print for the sake of pandering to 
the Anglophobic tastes of your countrymen It was my proud 
privilege to once hear your late lamented and distinguished confrére, 
Gustave Dore, say that no other people on the face of the earth knew 
what onc was as the English know it. I should like to ask you, 
MM. Julcs Valles and A. Lancon, if you know what comfort is? 
That is, when I saw you, I mean, of course, your country. If so, 
who taught it to you? Try for once and overcome that national 
trait of which 1 have spoken, and honestly confess that we brutal 
Saxons gave you the lessons. I intend, however, in the course of 
this work, to depict some of your own home-life, such as | under- 
stand it after long residence among you. And I shall defy you to 
contradict my statement, that of all the hations of the earth the 
French are the least versed in the art of making their homes com- 
fortable. M.: Jules Valles further informs us in his work that we 
are o nation of ‘‘ gloomy, melancholy hypocrites.’’ This is a very 
typical sample of the real French politeness—a subject 1 deal with 
further on. For nine years this gentleman was an exile in our 
midst, and among his compatriots in the neighborhood of Le-ces- 
ter-square, managed to pass away the time pretty pleasantly. But 
while partaking of our hospitality for these nine years, he was un+- 
able to discover anything more startling about us than that we are 
gloomy, melancholy hypocrites. I find, according to the best. dic- 
tionary authorities, that a hypocrite is ‘‘ one who assumes an ap- 
pearance of virtuc and piety.’’ Now, it has generally been under- 
stood by the rest of the world that French people were peculiarly 
liable to this assumption, so possibly M. Valles has made a mistake, 
But, whether or no, -we will do our best to survive theterrible ver- 
dict.. In dealing with us, however, he is mild—possibly in return 
for our nine years’ hospitality—as compared to what he is with his 
own countrymen, M, Jules Valles happens to be the editor and 
proprietor of a journal called *‘ Le Cri du Peuple,’’ and these are 


* Charpentier et Cie. Price 100 franes. This work is splendidly got up, and 
in an artistic and typographical seuse is the most magnificent volume that has 
been issued in Paris for years. Its great price, however, will prevent its being 
generally read, 


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16 JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 


some of the terms he applied to the students of the Latin Quartier 
the other day. He churges them with ‘* cynicism, imbecility, cor- 
ruption, debauchery, empty-headedness, and general rottenness.’’ 
M. Valles was a student himself once, and the young men of whom 
he now speaks in so feeling a manner will by and by take their places 
as French citizens. They will go to the Senate, the Church, the 
Bar; they will paint pictures and write books; so that young France 
now knows the class of men who will Jead it later on. | Possibly M, 
Valles has again made a mistuke, and he meant these pretty epithets 
for the present rulers of his country, and not for the poor students. 
Under any circumstances, it would appear as if the ‘‘ tiger’’ was 
very ferocious indeed in M. Jules Valles; and it is safe to assert, 
loo ing at the class of paper he now edits, and to the fact that he 
found it necessary to retire into obscurity for nine years, that should 
the late M. Thiers’ prediction be again fully realized, and the blood 
stage be reached, M. Valles’ fangs would drip pretty freely. 

In addition to the figures | have already quoted of the black- 
guardism in Paris must be added 151,000 indigents. 1 give this 
number from the recent article of M. d Haussonville. Now, tor 
every 2,000,000 of population i-London, we have only 125,000 in- 
digents, The same authority also staes that ‘‘ Paris. misery is 
stationary; while London misery .has been reduced in thirty years 
from six to three per cent.’” What do you think of that, gentle- 
men? Now, if to your 250,000 blackguards and 151,000 indigents 
we add your 100,000 prostitutes, we get a startling total, in very 
truth; such as ought to make you seriously reflect whether, after 
all, your pen and pencil might not be more profitably employed at 
home in revealing to an astonished world the rottenness of your 
** Horrible Paris.’’ We are fully aware of the mote in our eye, and, 
according to the lights that are given us, we will use our best en- 
deavors to clean out our Augean stable; but pray, good gentlemen, 
do not forget your own. 


ee 


; CHAPTER Il. 


Horrible Paris—St. Denis—Rue des Cascades—Menilmontant—" Le Cri du Peu- 
ple’ and the Students—An English Writer on Paris. 

So much has been made of ‘‘ Horrible London ’’ by French writers 
recently, that one can scarcely help a certain satisfaction that there 
is a Horrible Paris. Not the Paris of the Boulevards, with their 
gilt and gaud, and which most Englishmen only know; but the greater 
Paris, lying to the north and south, east ana west.. Suppose we. 
select the region of St. Denis, one of the most dreadful in Paris. 
Here the houses are six and seven stories in height. They are 
narrow, dark, reeking, ae filthy. The average rent 
for one room is two and a halt francs a week, and in many of these 
rooms are huddled six, seven, and eight human beings, Sisters and 
brothers, fathers and daughters sleep together. Young men and 
young women shamelessly expose their nakedness to each other. 
There are absolutely no sanitary regulations. The old cry of Garde . 
ad vous / may be heard at any hour of the evening by any one who 
has the boldness to penetrate into this vile quarter. In the dark, | 


JOUN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 1? 
rotting staircases are open privies, from which the filth is seldom 
teinoved. The floors of the rooms are black with trodden-in nasti- 
ness. The walls reek with mildew and festering damp... The air of 
these places is absolutely overpowering. In the streets, heaps ot 
offal collect and are the debating-ground for thousands of rats and 
gaunt, starving dogs and cats, who rend and tear each otber, and 
dispute the moldering garbage. In hot weather this quarter is.the 
birthplace ot cholera, typhoid, typhus, and almost every disease 
under the sun. In cold and wet weather, the iwisery is appalling; 
The people who eke out their poisonous existence here are human 
ghouls, The women, by dissipation, are bloated out of. all sem- 
blance to womanhood; while the men are hideous in their skulking, 
hang-dog, villainous expressions. The children grow old long before 
their time: they are utterly without any sense of decency, morality, 
or religion. They are born like dogs, and they die and are buried 
like dogs. Suicides are of every day occurrence, and murders. are 
frequent. 

Passing from St. Denis to Belleville, we find Brealey the same 
thing, though, if anything, worse. And lest it might be thought 
that [ am drawing an exaggerated picture, [ will quote the Paris. 
correspondent of the “‘ Daily News,’’ who, in the issue of that paper: 
for December 26, 1883, says about these very places I allude to: 

“*8t. Denis is a suburban Alsatia of want. Misery shifts just as. 
* fashion shifts. St. Antoine is now nothing to Belleville, and Belle-, 
ville is rapidly yielding to St. Denis. There is the new misery and 
the old iniséry; the old misery in some of the central arrondissements 
is almost genteel; the people are ashamed to be seen to suffer, they 
dress decently, and hide the eleemosynary morsel in their sleeve, 
Belleville and St. Denis have no scruples of the kind; it is all. 
squalor there, and no wian dreads the eye of his neighbors. . The 
houses, both of the old misery and of the new, are simply awtul; . 
the former affront the sky with their six and seven stories of narrow 
and dark dirty humes; the latter, as in the Rue de Cascades and at 
Menilmontant, are often mere huts built on the spongy soil. The 
lowest rent here is two and a half francs a week for one room. In 
the older quarters nothing is to be had much under two hundred — 
and tifty francs, or ten pounds a year, and that no more than a kitchen, 
oraroom under the roof. At Menilmontant, as we see, it hardly ex- 
ceeds five pounds a year, but this is absolutely the worst accommo- 7 
dation in Paris, if not in the world. Only the lowest and most 
destitute wretches lodge at this rate; they pay in advance, and are 
consequently under no obligation to have furniture to secure the » 
rent. ‘hey often 1uove in with nothing but a truss of straw. The 
— for the landlord is at least twenty-five per cent. Such build- . 
ngs are generally found in what the French call c7éés, often streets 
with only one opening. They are shut out from the world, and | 
their population, half rag-pickers and half thieves, live and die 
there. The vice, owing to the overcrowding, is inconceivably revolt- 
ing; there are cases in which all the restraints of what we like to 
consider as a very law of nature in decency are set at naught, 
Whole families Jive in absolute promiscuity. The walls are often 
covered with vile drawings, and the rooms are in astate of indescrib- | 
able ruin, their floorboards and doors are often torn away for fire- 


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18 JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 


wood, and the pattern of the wall paper obliterated with the accu- 
mulation of every kind of filth. Of forty-six thousand odd lodgings 
like this in Paris, eighteen thousand odd were let for Jess than a 
hundred francs (£4) a year, twenty-four thousand at from one to 
two hundred, six thousand at from two hundred to three hundred, 
Three thousand were entirely without any heating apparatus what- 
ever, chimney or stove; five thousand were Jit only by a small sky- 
light; and fifteen hundred took their light and air from a passage or 
corridor. No wonder that while only fifteen per thousand die in the 
neizhborhood of the Elysée, thirty-five per thousand die in such 
quarters as these.’’ 
Have we anything in our great and grand London that can com- 
pare with this for ghastly horror? Nor must it be supposed that 
the. above-mentioned districts are the only ones of their ! ‘nd in 
Par>—~ They are, perhaps, the worst; but there are others nearly as 
bad. Look at the Moulffetard district, for instance, and the awful 
rookeries of the Plain of Clichy and Saint Ouen, where the repulsive 
chiffonniers drag out their existence. Nor must we torget the squalid 
neighborhoods round Notre Dame; or the nest of rookerics lying 
behind the Jardin des Plantes; or those that abut on the Boulevard 
St. Germain and St. Michel, or the Avenue des Gobelins. Paris, in 
fact, is a city of shams and frauds, of rottenness and gimcrackery. 
The foreigner goes on to the Boulevards and stares into the gayly- 
dressed shop-windows. But let him confine himself strictly to the 
Boulevards, otherwise, if he be a man of taste, he will be discusted. 
What, for instance, can be said of the Avenue de ]’Opera, that cost 
many millions of francs to build? Here, among the grand shops, 
are hideously ugly protruding stalls, with their heaps of cheap trash. 
Is there any other city in the world that. could show such an incon- 
gruily? A recent writer,* speaking of Paris, thus criticises it: : 
‘* Wach house is exactly the same height as the next, the windows 
ure of the same pattern, the wooden outer blinds the same shape, 
the line of the Jevcl roof runs along straight and unbroken, the 
chimneys are either invisible or insignificant. Nothing projects, 
no bow-window, balcony, or gable; the surface is as flat as well 
can be. From parapet to pavement the wall descends plumb, and 
the glance slips along it unchecked, Each house is exactly the 
same color as the next, white; the wooden outer blinds are all the 
same color, a dull gray; in the windows there are no visible red, or 
green, or tapestry curtains, mere sashes. There are no flowers in 
the windows to catch the sunlight. The upper stories have the air 
of being uninhabited, as the windows have no curtains. whatever, 
and the wooden blinds are frequently closed. Two flat vertical sur- 
faces, one on cach side of the street, each white and gray, extend 
onward and approach in mathematica! ratio. That is a Parisian 
street. ‘Turning round a corner one comes suddenly on a pillar of 
a dingy, dull hue, whose outline bulges unpleasantly. In London 
you would shrug your shoulders, mutter * hideous,’ and pass on. 
This is the famous Vendéme Column. As for the Column of July, 
it is so insignificant, so silly (no other word expresses it so well), 
that a second glance is carefully avoided. The H6tel de Ville, a 


* Richard Jefferies in the ‘‘ Pall Mall Gazette.” 


———n 


JOHN BULL'S NETGITROR. 19 


vast white building, is past description, it is so plain and so répel- 
lent in its naked glaring assertion, From about old Notre Dame 
they have removed every mediteval outwork which had grown up 
around and rendered it lifelike, it now rises perpendicular and ab- 
rupt from the while surface of the square. Uniess you have been 
told that it was the Notre Dame of Victor Hugo, you would not 
look at its exterior twice. The barrack like Hétel des Invalides, the 
tomb of Napoleun—was ever a tomb so miserably lacking in all that 
should inspire a reverential feeling? The marble tub in which the 
ufn is sunk, the gilded chapel, and the yeilow windows, could any- 
thing be more artificial and less appropriate? They jar on the 
senses, they insult the torn flags which were carried by the veterans 
at Austerlitz, and which now droop, never again to be unfurled to 
the wind of battle. The tiny Seine might as well flow in a tunnel, 
being bridged so much, _There remains but the Arc de ‘Triomphe, 
the only piece of architecture in all modern Paris worth a second 
look, Even this is spoiled by the same intolerable artificiality. The 
ridiculous sculpture on the face, dhe figures blowing trumpets, and, 
above all, the group on the summit, which is quite beyond the tongue 
of man to describe, so utterly hideous is it, destrov tue noble lines of 
the arch, if any one is so imprudent a8 to approach near it. For the 
most part, the vaunted Boulevards are but planted with planes, the | 
least pleasing of trees, whose leaves present an unvurying green, till 
they drop a dead brown; and the horse-chestauts in the Champs 
Elysées are set in straight lines, to repeat the geometry of the streets, 
Thus, central Paris has no character. It is without individuality, 
and expressionless. Suppose you said—‘ The human face is really 
very irrezular; it requires shaping. This nose projects; here, let us 
flatten it to the level of the cheek. This mouth curves at the corners} 
let us cut it straight. These eyebrows arch; make them straight. 
This color is too flesh-like; bring white paint. Besides, the features 
move, they laugh, they assume sadness; this is wrong Here, divide 
the muscles, that they may henceforth remain in unvarying rigid- 
ity.’ That is what has been done to Paris, It is made straight, it 
is idealized atter Euclid, it is stiff, wearisome, and feeble. Lastly, 
it has no expression.”’ | 

The toregoing is neither a prejudiced nor exaggerated aspect of 
this much-vaunted Paris; it is absolutely and indisputably true. 


oe 


CHAPTER IT. 


Englishand French Heroism contrasted—Some Historical Reminiscences— 
Crécy—Poitiers—Agincourt—The Fiends of the Revolution—The Imbecility 
of the Republic—Bismarck’s Opinion of French Soldiers, ; 

In the recent work, ‘“ John Bull et Son De,”’ the author says that, 
“8 a nation, we are wanting in heroism. ‘This is certainly a very 
untortunate slatement for a Frenchman to make, for it instantly 
conjures up to the Englishman an endless array of historical events 
upon which the world has long since passed its verd:ct; and that 
verdict has pronounced the English race, individually and collect: . 
ively, one of the most heroic nations of the earth. With Sedan 
and Metz fresh in his memory, Mr. Max O’Rell should have hesi- 


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30) JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR, 


tated Before venturin # to bring such a serious charge against his neigh- 
bors. Can he ever have heard, for instance, of the Indian Mutiny 
of 1857? If so, will he deny that during that awful period we 
showed such heroisin, both as a nation and as individuals, that it 
alone might fairly entitle us to rank as a heroic people. But, pos- 
sibly, Mr. O’ Rell dves not read history, not even that appertainmg 
to his own country. Otherwise, he would have known that in work 
of exploration—in the ghastly, frozen North—in burning, equatorial. 
Africa—in every region of the earth—Englishmen have always been. 
in tli van. He should also know that among a very long list of 
ancestors whom we are pleased to think were essentially heroic, 
there are three for whom we brutal Saxons have an especial venera- 
tion. They are Sir Francis Drake, Lord Nelson, and the Duke of 
Wellington. Of these two latter Frenchmen surely cannot be tin- 
mindful. Will Mr. O’Rell deny that we displayed heroism during 
the Peninsular War? lt is a somewhat remarkable circumstance, 
that in all! our struggles with France we have always crushed 
France; and it has been generally admitted by impartial historians 
that the sacrifices we were called upon as a nation to make during 
these struggles have fairly entitled us to the bays for heroism and 
valor. 1am quite aware that Waterloo hus an ugly sound to French- 
men’s ears, and when uttered in their presence, it causes the fever 
of Anglophobia to rage with burning intensity. It is, therefore, 
with considerable reluctance 1 mention: it; nor would 1 do so, save 
that I feel impelled to it by a stern sense of duty. And I put Mr. 
O’Rell upon his hunor now—French honor is a dric-d-brac thing we 
know; but it cannot be helped—and I ask him solemnly, whether 
Waterloo was not the crowning of a long series of heroic deeds such 
ag any nation might envy? . But, I may venture to go back very 
much further than Waterloo, and mention another name that 1s 
equally objectionable to Frenchmen—Crécy. Was not that glorious 

assage of arms also the culmination of a campaign that has added 
uster to the English dag? And, coming a little further along on 
the Road to Time, we reach Poitiers. Perhaps Mr. O’ Rell will, in 
time, recover from the shock it will have upon him to be told that. 
at Poitiers our Edward the Black Prince, with only 8,000 men, op- 
posed himself to Mr. O’Rell’s countrymen, who were in force as 
eight. to one, aud, smiting them hip and thigh, routed and all but 
annihilated them. But—and I mention this with, as I hope, be- 
coming modesty—the crowning act of that great fight even put into 
the shade the valor of England’s soldiers; and I venture to believe 
that my good friend Mr. O’ Rell] will admit that it was heroic when 
the Black Prince, flushed and excited with victory, received his 
prisoner foe —the king of France—with every mark of distinguished 
honor, even waiting upon him ¢n. propria persond at table—an honor 
and courtesy that were not reluxed when the captive king was con- 
veyed to England and lodged in the Palace of the Savoy in Lon- 
don. Now, do, my dear and gifted O’ Rell, just blush ever so little 
as you read this, for it will serve to show that you really are sorry 
for having been so sparing of the truth. Perhaps,.as 1 am citing 
evidence against your charge, 1 may as well mention Agincourt, 
which we Saxons are not a little proud of. And, coming to our 
time, I would respectfully request to be allowed to put en evidence 


ory 


JOHN BULL’S NEIGHBOR. 91 


our wars against the Sikhs, one of the most powerful races of fight- 
ing nien on the earth. Mooltan is a name which thrills an English- 
man. .Mooltan was besieged by English troops under the command 
of General Whish, the enemy being under Moolraj Dewan. During 
the siege a great powder magazine, which contained 16,000 lbs. of 
powder within the fort, blew up, killing about 800 men, and shatter- 
ing most of the principal houses. As showing the force of the ex- 
plosion, it may be stated that bottles were knocked off tables at a 
distance of two miles away. No better illustration of the desperate 
courage of the Sikhs can be afforded than their conduct on this oc- 
casion. Instead of being disheartened at their loss, the Moolraj sent 
word that he had still enough powder and shot to last for twelve 
months, and that he would hold out as Jong as a single stone of the 
fort would stand. The British General sent a summons to him to 
surrender, which, writes one of the British soldiers, ‘‘ he quietly 
rammed down bis longest gun and fired back at us.’’ \Among the 
gallant soldiers who fell was Lieut.-Colonel Wm. Havelock, whilst 
leading a body of 450 horse against 15,000 of the enemy. «The 
Colonel led the first and second syuadrons at a gallop, dashing 
through the whole of the Sikh army, and sabering hundreds of the 
Sikhs under the most frighttul shower of missiles from their guns 
and matchlocks. A second charge was made, when the bullets tell 
among the troops like hail. Colonel Havelock’s left Jez and arm 
were cut off, and his right arm wounded, when he fell dead upon ~ 
the field. Eleven of his men fought by his side until every one was 
destroyed. The war continued during 1849, and ended in the sur- 
render of the whole of the Sikh army and the annexation of the 

Punjaub to the British dominions. ras 

And then, again, what about General Wheeler’s defense of the — 
sand-hills at Cawnpore; of Gordon Thomson and his seven com- 
panions, who for hours held their own against legions of natives; 
of the brave Scully and Lieutenant Willoughby, who, together with 
seven others, kept thousands of their foes at bay, and then, when no 
longer able to defend it, blew up the tremendous magazine of Delhi, 
involving all in a common ruin; of the grand old man, General 
Havelock, and his handful of devoted men, during that awful 
march to relieve Lucknow? But there, the list might be extended al- 
most ad tnfindium. 1 have said enough, though it is a motal cer- 
tainty Mr. O’Rell and his compatriots will not be convinced. 

And now lL may fairly claim the right to inquire if France has 
ever particularly distinguisehd herself as a heroic nation? History 
herself answers in a stern and hoarse voice, and says—No. 

It is not necessary to travel any further back than the reign of 
your Charles 1X. Have we anything in our history to compare with 
that ghastly and unheroic crime, the massacre of St. Bartholomew? 
Then, if we take your next Rega erwwta 111.—once Duke of Anjou, 
do we not find his whole reign a shameless chapter of blood and de- 
bauchery? In tact, is not the whole Valois dynasty a pitiable story 
of hypocrisy, crime, and cowardice? From 1610 to 1643 have you 
anything better toshow? All the events of that period of thirty- 
three years are still marked with crime, treachery, and craven deeds, 
and there is not a single gleam of heroism to relieve the horrible 
gloom. Pass me on now to your lurid years of Revolution, 


thet 


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ip Z ’ a oF avy e 4, Ta, 

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: : ‘ : ¥ 7 v rk id a ‘ " on 7 “* “ie L Aa Ful 

: Ay Py Ae ey : poe eae) ) % bees 


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; ai A ee ot? Py {Hh am a) on hale an mptinn 7 
es ites micWia (ae Cen ae May ees! Nn 
ta ee ie Eh Spo hes) ORAS” 
7 ve 475i, saat Soe i tre rey ee ae 
al Sesh’ | ‘ pat gery Pye 
mere a Why 


ae JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR, 


Does not the very utterance of the ghastly cry ‘* A Ja Lanterne!’’ 
send back an echo of ‘‘no heroism, no heroism ’’?* Does not 
the following read like the distorted ravings of some maniac ro- 
mance writer; and yet it is sober Alison, the historian, who writes . 
it. It relates to the frightful atrocities perpetrated at Nantes by the 
human fend Carrier: 

‘* While Thurreau was pursuing with varied success the system 
of extermination in La Vendee, the scaffold was erected at Nantes, 
and those infernal executions commenced which have affixed a 
stain upon the French Revolution unequaled since the beginning of 
the world. “A revolutionary tribunal was formed there. under the 
direction of Carrier, and it soon outstripped even the rapid progress 
of atrocity of Danton and Robespierre. ‘ Their principle,’ says the 
Republican historian, ‘ was that it was nevessary to destroy en 
m-38¢ all the prisoners. At theircommand was formed a corps called 
the Legion of Marat, composeed of the most determined and blood- 
thirsty of the revolutionists, the members of which were entitled of 
their own authority to incarcerate any person whom they chose. The 
number of their prisoners was soon between three and four thou- 
sand, and they divided among themselves all their property. When- 
ever a fresh supply of captives was wanted, the alarm was spread of 
a counter-revolution, the générale beat, the cannon planted; and this 
was immediately followed by numerous arrests. Nor were they 
long in disposing of the captives. The miserable wretches were 
either slain with poniards in the prisons, or carried out in a vessel 
and drowned by wholesale in the Loire. On one occasion a hun- 
dred * fanatical priests,’ as they are termed, were taken out together, 
stripped of their clothes, and precipitated into the waves. The same 
vessel served for many of these novades, and the horror expressed by 
many of the citizens for that mode of execution formed the ground 
for tresh arrests and increased murders, Women big with child, 
infants, eight, nine, and ten years old, were thrown together into 
the stream, on the sides of which man armed with sabers were placed 
to cut off their hends if the waves should throw them undrowned on 
the shore. The citizens, with loud shrieks, implored the lives of the 
little innocents, and numbers offered to adopt them as their own; 
but though a few were granted to their urgent entreaty, the greater 
part were doomed to destruction. Thus were consigned to the grave 
whole generations at once—the ornament of the present, the hope of 
the fnture. So immense were the numbers of those who were cut off 
by the guillotine, or mowed down by fussilades, that three hundred 
men were occupied for six weeks in covering with earth the vast 
multitude of corpses which filled the trenches which had been cut 
in the Place ot the Department at Nantes to receive the dead bodies. 
Ten thousand died of disease, pestilence, and horror, in the prisons 
of that. department alone. On one occasion, by orders of Carrier, 
twenty-three of the Royalists, on another twenty-four, were guillo- 
tined together without any trial. The executioner remonstrated, but 
in vain. Among them were many children of seven or eight years 
of age and seven women, the executioner died two or three days 


* Ala Lanterne/ the ery of the brutal, bloodthirsty mob, as they burried 
their victims to the street corners and hung them from the lamp brackets, 


JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 23 


after with horror at what he himself had done. At another time one 
hundred and forty women, incarcerated as suspected, were drowned 
together, though actively engaged in making bandages and shirts for 
the Republican soldiers, ct 

‘* So great was the multitude of captives who were brought in on 
all sides that the execntioners as well as the company of Marat, de- 
clared themselves exhausted with fatigue; and anew method of 
disposing of them was adopted, borrowed from Nero, but improved 
on the pian of that tyrant.. A hundred or a hundred and fifty vic- 
tims, for the most part. women and children, were crowded together 
in a boat with a concealed trap-door in the bottom, which was con- 
ducted into the middle of the Loire;, at a given signal, the crew 
leaped into another boat, the bolts were withdrawn, and the shrink- 
ing victims precipitated into the waves, amidst the laughter of the 
company of Marat, who stood on the banks to cut down any who 
approached them. This was what Carrier called his Republican 
baptism. The Republican marriages were, if possible, a still greater 
refinement in cruelty. Two persons of different sexes, generally an’ 
old man and an old woman, or a young man and a young woman, 
bereft’ of every species of dress, were bound together, and after 
being left in that torture for half an hour were thrown into the 
river. 

““The scenes in the prisons which preceded these horrid execu- 
tions exceeded all that romance has figured of the terrible. Many 
women died of terror the moment a man entered their cells, con- 
ceiving that they were about to be led out to the noyades ; the floors 
were vovered with the bodies of their infants, numbers of whom 
were yet quivering in the agonies of death. On one occasion, the 
inspector entered the prison to seek for a child where the evening 
betore he had left above three hundred infants; but they were all. 
gone in the morning, having been drowned in the preceding night, 
To every representation of the citizens in fuvor of these innocent 
victims, Carrier answered, ‘ They are all vipers, let them be stifled.” 
Three hundred young women of Nantes were drowned by him in | 
one night; so far from having had any share in political discussions, | 
they were of the unfortunate class who live by the pleasures. of 
others’ Several hundred persons were thrown every night for some 
months into the river; their shrieks at being led. out of the entrepét, 
on board the barks, wakened all the inhabitants of the town, and 
froze every heart with horror. Early in the noyades, Lamberty, at 
- a party at Carrier’s, pointing to the Loire, said, ‘It has already 
passed two thousand eight hundred.’ ‘ Yes,’ said Carrier, ‘they 
are in the national bath.’ Fouquet boasted that he had dispatched 
Snine thousand in other quarters on the same rivet, From Saumur to 
Nantes, a distance of sixty miles, the Loire was tor several weeks 
red with human blood; the ensanguined stream divided the blue 
waves of the deep. The multitude of corpses it bore to the ocean 
was 80 prodigious that the adjacent coast was strewed with them, 
and a violent west wind and high tide having brought part of them 
back to Nantes was followed by a train of. sharks and marine 
animals of prey, attracted by so prodigious an accumulation of 
human bodies. They were thrown ashore in vast numbers, Fifteen 
thousand persons perished there, under the hand of the executioner, 


Q4 JOHN BULLS NEICHBOR. 


or of diseases in prison in one month; the total victims of the Reign 
‘of Terror, at that place, exceeded 30,000.” 

Can a people with a hideous page in their history, such as: that 
I have quoted, claim to be heroic? Did France earn any lesson by 
those horrors? Again history answers, No. We will hurry along 
and come to 48. Was there anything heroic during that time of 
horror? Was there anything heroic at Sedan, at Metz? Was there 
anything heroic in Frenchmen cowardl insulting the defenseless 
emptess, when the sun of the Second Wanpte had set in a sea of 
blood? Was there anything heroic when, still later, the town of 
Marseilles endeavored to wrest from the forlorn widow the gift 
_ they themselves had given her husband at a time when, with char- 
acteristic French fawning, they would have licked the dust from his 
shoes? Was there anything heroic in scuttling away from Egypt, 
and leaving us to do the fighting? Was it a heroic act to so basely 
jsult your guest, the Spanish King? And did you display heroism 
when, the other day, in Tonquin, French sailors and marines bar- 
barously and ruthlessly massacred three thousand helpless natives 
—butchered them in cold blood, ede China correspondent of Paris 
“ Figaro.’’ And, lastly, have you shown a scintilla of heroism in 
the pitiable Madagascar affair? Has not your conduct there been a 
scandal and a burning disgrace? Little towns absolutely devoid of 
the slightest. fortifications have been shelled, out of wanton and 
petty spite, and hundreds of defenseless and unarmed natives have 
been cruelly sleghtered. | 

In all the incidents I have mentioned the tiger has been conspicu- 
ous, and to-morrow, or the next day, or the day after that, its fangs 
will be again dripping with gore.* ' History is a terrible denouncer, 
and in the eyes of the civilized world it indelibly brands the French 
people as the most brutal and bloodthirsty when aroused—the most 
arrogant and despotic on the face of the earth. It is historically 
recorded of Prince Bismarck, that he remarked, when referring to 
the bloodthirsty brutality of French soldiers, Zeht man einem sol- 
chen Gallier die weisse Haut ab, so hat man einen Turco vor sich.t 


CHAPTER Iy. 


A Challenge to M. Hector France—La Femme des Rats—A Bull-ficht at Aix- 
en-Provence—Les Sculptres Vivants—Bal Bullier in Paris—The Can-can 
—How Young France takes its Pleasure. . 


_ I the extraordinary work ‘‘ Va-nu-Pieds de Londres,’’ which has 
been referred to once or twice in the preceding pages, the author 
states that he witnsesed in London (1) a man and-dog fight at Wap- 
ping; (2) a fight between two women stripped, and fought accord- 


ing to rules that had been drawn up. The book in which these two 


* On Sunday, January 13 of the present year, a meeting of 4.000 unemployed 
workmen and many women was held in the Salle Levis at Paris. Speeches of 
@ most violent and inflammatory character were delivered, and all the speak- 
ers declared that an “ armed revolution’ was the sole remedy for their 
grievances. When the speeches were over, the horrible Carmagnole was 
danced by a hundred couples,— Vide Paris Press, January 14, 


t Trans.—Strip off the white skin of the Gaul and you will find a Turco. 


” 


JOHN BULL’S NEIGHBOR. 25 


statements appear is a réchauffage of a series of articles this enter- 
prising journalist, who actually ventured across the Channel in 
search ot the wonderful, contributed to a Paris paper. In their 
newspaper form they could well be allowed to pass unnoticed, but 
since M. Hector France has given them a more enduring place, I 
publicly challenge him to produce some distinct proof that his state- 
ments are true. In what part of Wapping did the man-and-dog fight 
«take place? and where did the fight between the women come off? 

T await M. France’s answer. 

In order to gain some idea of the value that may be attached to this. 
gentleman’s book, it is only necessary to read the conversation which 
he says he held with an ‘‘ undertaker ’’ in the metropolis. ‘The un- 
dertaker’s name is ‘‘ Joyce,’’ and the author gravely informs his 
readers that Joyce in English ‘‘ signifies joy.’’ 

Oh! M. France, M. France, what a pitfall you dug for yourself. 
when you ventured on that unhappy translation. With a little more 
authenticity than marks M. France’s statements I will now call at- 
tention to some of the elevating spectacles which ‘* Paris the Beau-- 
tiful ’’ ofters to its inhabitants and foreigners alike. Here is one as_ 
desribed by a correspondent of the *‘ Daily News.’’* ec: 

‘**T read with much interest your review on M. France’s remark. 
able satire on English’ manners and customs of the present day. 
The sole object of the book apparently is to expose the innate ferocity | 
and brutality of ‘Ces bétes Anglais.” Keeping this purpose steadily 
in view, M. France no doubt congratulates himself at having been 
able to assist, in company with the lowest riff-raff (va-nu-pied) of - 
the London streets, those highly-sensational exhibitions of a ‘ man- 
and-dog fight’ and an Amazonian cncounter between an Irish and 
an English harridan. This exhibition is undoubtedly revolting and 
degrading—what Mr. Mantalini would have called ‘a demmed un- 
pleasant spectacle ’—but what shall we say of an entertainment. 
which was one of the chief attractions of the grand téte at the 
Tuileries last September, in aid of the victims of the Ischia disaster, 
compared to which the Amazonian combat, which M. France ex- - 
ecrates so strongly, was almost a refined and elevating spectacle? 
This entertainment, which, judging from the attendance, was one of 
the most successful in the whole .féte, had for its pééce de resistance — 
a wrestling match between a young fellow of 25 and a girl of about® 
20 or 21, but apparently younger. Wrestling, of course, it- could 
hardly be called, and a Cornishman or North-countryman would — 
have laughed the thing to scorn; but that did not lessen, but, if any- 
thing, rather increased its indecency. The encounter, which lasted — 
five or six minutes, was a confused struggle, the two wrestlers 
hugging, grappling, and tumbling about in every conceivable post- 
ure, and this was varied occasionally by the girl being thrown to the 
ground and almost literatly biting the dust. 1 must admit that the. 
male wrestler did his best not to hurt his fair antagonist, and in thé 
end she came off victorious, as was no doubt arranged beforehand, - 
Yet, in order to keep up the delusion, the woman got considerably 
marked, and even apparently hurt once or twice. The spectators: 
were composed for the most part, not of the oft-scourings of the Lon-— 


* Mr, E, A. B, Ball. ‘‘ Daily News,’ December 27, 1883. 


oy 
ia 


wet 


—_ de Np Fo at. Seg tn hee 24 
+ i ae os 4 ¥ : : an : he yo ib, . « 
Mele tee, Msg, Loa Pea” ae gt 
ore - ; ; 4 ‘Aue P : 
a 2 au % era? im ‘ f i . ee 4 : 
i ” re 
’ bts i] eri , ee ‘ PY; teh } 
at? a r aL} une Y 
a - ? « ¥ iy 
‘ 1 Ay@ P at. i aba i Aa j f 7, 
a u iste . , a wine, ps “y - 4) 
» te gy As ie y in o t 4 eM N ge 
. oe et oy tA ako ‘ AP! a a0 
ry al mp y of CA) ~) Vets a 
° wl hd , ‘@ j whit ° e ‘ se”. 
- bai “9-46 ' Oe ti i, rf 
@ 
7 : hay ‘ PA 
bea diy eT se Be a ae 
é . Hy i tatew m 5 4 th ; vy 
ae tee Piel aus PO 2" 44 a Ai >a Wy ¥ 4 
ys: : : a ; a eras A 4 
> ; A Ab, { ; 


Bs Pe aaa 4 Lr We tye a nada valde he Pe 
: at s¢ ‘1 Ley Raw i pay 


si = - ‘ 
: j ' ‘ ; 
ree Mg “¥ Wx ip hvd: (peel te ag i . f 
‘ , ‘ ; } 
A: i. . Lowa OW? aie oe : i : 
‘ a he G4 é pay fp dee ¥E: y / 4% a it 
>a . “eK? | uy a i“ 
ay’ >- SM - n . i = at “a AN lied = oe } ‘va’ 
a Ps. y as ff mei) Sa ae Wer ot a! ow 
a ' ® . : a : q 
wie 7 ee ai uaa ripe os 7 é 
| PY ae ’ : 7 
7 eS ‘we? ' i ie we we ‘a Wa 4 F wi, 
fs * rey ie f ’ - 
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. Ail yee sae Was te <4 
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am F pe ray | 
oa } > aw ee ‘s ee ah 
7) Ue) lame chet eA oe 

\ f y , : 4 Lui 


p20 20". SOR HBEL Ss RIGHRGRS 


don slums, as was the case in the remarkable combat related by’ M. 
- France, but of the respectable bourgeois class with their wives and 


 familics, with a sprinkling of a few of higher rank. On reading, 
then, this violent tirade of M. France against English brutality, one 


_ is inclined to remind him of the English proverb, of which there is 
- doubtless a French equivalent, that ‘ Those’ who live in glass houses 
should not throw stones.’ ”’ 

The write: of the foregoing is perhaps not aware that the exhibi- 
tion ot a sham wrestling match between a man and woman is com- 
mon all over France at country fairs; und often, in out-of-the-way 
places, the woman is half naked, in order to add a zest to the refin- 
ing exhibition. ’ 

Tt happened that quite a few years agol was lodging in the 
Avenue des Gobelins, in the house of a Professor at the Lycee. One 
evening my landlord said if I liked to accompany him he would 
take me to a very interesting entertainment. I did like; and so we 
made our way into the Boulevard d’Italie, and from thence to a 
small street running off it, where we entered a duveite. After passing 
through a very dirty room, where a number of hideously ugly half- 
- drunken and half-naked girls were seated playing cards .and 

‘dominoes, we found ourselves in a yard that was roofed over with a 
canvas awning. In the center of the yard was a ring formed by 
boards about three teet high. The floor of the ring was covered 
~~with a Jayer ot sawdust. Every inch of ground outside of the ring 

was filled with a drunken, leering crowd of men and women, with 
frightful and repulsive countenunces. Several of the women had 
“young children in thei: arms, and sips of absinthe, and what: the 

rench call ea2-de-vie, were frequently given to these infants. The 
air of the place was thick with toul tobacco-smmoke nd reeked 
with effluvia arising from this unwashed crowd; while the. ble of 
~ their voices was deafening, their conversation for the most part being 
~- coarse, lewd, and blasphemous. Up to this moment 1 had not the 
remotest idea what I had come to see; but 1 was soon to learn. A 
humpbacked man with a bloated face suddenly called out, ‘* Adien- 
tion, Messieurs et Mesdanies! La #emme des Rats.”? At the same 
moment a tall, herculean woman entered the saw-dust ring from a 
_ doorway in the wall of the yard. At the first glance I thought she 
‘was a man in disguise, for she had a coarse, masculine type of face, 
_ that was scarred all over, and about her mouth was a thin growth 
’ of scraggy hair. The glaring oil-lamps enabled me, however, to dis- 
cover that she was unmistakably of the female sex. 
+ She was dressed in flesh-colored stockings, and wore high-heeled 
- shoes. A loose, flowing petticoat of sray flannel came down to her 
_ knees, and the upper purt of ber body was clothed ina loosely-fitting 
bodice without sleeves; so that, save for tanned leather gluves coming 
~ up to the elbows, her arms were bare to the shoulders, the armpits 

and the breast being visible. Round her waist she had a broad 

** Champion belt,’’ with a massive silver, or imitation silver, buckle, 
while pinned to her breast were three or tour medals. She brought 
into the ring with her a large wire cage, containing a dozen big and 

ferocious-looking rats.. This cage she deposited on the floor, and 
then, addressing the audience, described herself as the champion 
¥at-killer of the world. She said that the half-franc we had paid to 


a 


JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 27 


come in went for the good of the house, and therefore she hoped 
~that, when her performance was over, we should be liberal in.our 

ivings. Cate . 
net Her performance ”’ consisted in killing the dozeu rats with her 
teeth in ten minutes, as timed by the humpbacked man, who was 
the landlord, or possibly ‘* her agent,”’ 

The conditions were, ‘‘ La Femme des Rats ’’ was not to touch the 
vermin with ber hands, but going down on all fours she was to seize 
them with her teeth as they issued trom the small doorway of the 
cage. 

The humpbacked man opened the door of the cage by means of a 
hooked stick, and instantly ‘‘ La Femme des Rats ’’ dropped on to 
all fours. Ina few moments a big rat ventured to come torth from 
the cage, and with a quick, sudden, agile movement, evidently the 
result of long practice, the womun dashed at it, seized the animai 
with her powerful teeth, then shook it off as would a terrier, and it 
lay writhing in the agonies of death in the sawdust. The cheering 
of the brutal and excited audience evidently frightened the rats, so 
that they huddled im a mass in one corner ot the cage, and it became 
necessary for the humpbacked tan to poke them out with his stick, 
The second that ventured to come out was seized and killed instant- 
ly. Then two came out together. One was seized and disabled, 
and the other for a moment escaped, though the boards were too 
high to enable it to get out of the ring. The cage was now lifted 
up by the hovked stick, and the rest of the rats shaken out. Then, 
with all the snaps and snarls and movements of a dog, the woman 
darted at the terrified animals, many of which flew at the bare parts 
of her arms and at her face, inflicting wounds from which the blood 
streamed, . I sickened with horror at the revolting sight, for any- 
thing more hideously indecent it had never been my lot to behold. 
With half a minute to spare the creature accomplished her disgust- 
ing task, and every one of the twelve rats was stretched in the saw- 
dust. Then, panting, bleeding, covered with dust »nd sawdust, the 
woman rose, and the drunken, brutal crowd chee ~-shouted 
themselves hoarse. When ‘‘ La Femme%es Rats omewhat 
recovered her breath, she handed round a little tin pla.s, and col- 
lected about ten francs. 

The ‘‘ entertainment ’’ I have here described did not take place, 
remember, among the brutal Saxons, but in the midst of the gentle 
Gauls; and | think 1 may venture to remark that all the brutality is 
not guzte on our side. But here is another picture: 

A litile more than a year ago a bull-fight was advertised to take 
place at Aix-en-Provence, eighteen miles from Marseilles. The 
entertainment was under the patronage and presence of the Mayor 
and Municipal Council. It was a féte day, and a tremendous crowd 
of men, women, and children assembld to witness the edifying and 
refining spectacle. The man who opposed himself to the animal was 
an old, gray-headed Frenchman, and after he had gored and tortured 
the animal into fury, it madea furious onslaught upon him and 
nearly trampled him to death. The Muyor hereupon rose in his seat, 
and ordered the exhibition to be stopped; but the gentle, lamb-like © 
Gauls had come to enjoy themselves, and what mattered it though 
an old gray-haired man was butchered to make them a holiday? 


28 JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 


They had brought their wives and children, their sweethearts and | 
relations, out for pleasure, and they were not going to be balked.” 
So they demanded that the entertainment should proceed. The 
Mayor objected, and this objection aroused the lurking tiger. Men 
and women rose en masse, and shouted, screamed, gesticulated, fran- - 
tically aud swore horribly, threatening if the show was not continued, 
that they would burn the place down. So the mangled old man was 
dragsed out of the ring by means of ropes, and his son continued the - 
fight, and succeeded at Jast in slaying the bull. 
This revolting spectacle did not take place in Spain, nor even in 
London, but in La Belle France. Suppose we could read for 
** France’? England. What world our dear neighbors say of us? 
They might tee] that their language was too poor in condemnatory 
phrases to enable them to express their full measure of disgust and 
‘contempt. Really we- ought to be very thankful that our country 
so far has been satisfied with man-and-dog fights and Amazonian 
encounters between half-naked temales, and has not yet aspired to 
such displays as the mangling of an old man and the fiendish tort- 
uring of a bull, 
Coming back to the ‘‘ gay capital,’’ I was the eye-witness of an- 

other exhibition such as I am fain to believe has no counterpart 
amongst us brutal Saxons. It was a display of what was described 
as Des Scutptres Vivants, and this is what I saw in a house not ten 
minutes’ walk from the Boulevard des Italiens:—In a large room a 
stage was fitted, and at a given signal the painted curtain was drawn 
up, revealing a revolving table, on which were posed four girls, two 
brunettes and two blondes. In respect to their attire, they were in 
exactly that state which we are informed was peculiar to our first 
parents before the little incident of the apple, with the exception of 
a gauze scarf that each cazried and draped about her body, in ac- 
cordance with the statue she represented. The limelight threw its 
_ searching rays over the tableaux, which were highly appreciated by 
_ a large audience, consisting mainly of boys and young men. 

That this exhibition was indecent, as viewed from our Saxon point 
of view, I think will be réadily admitted; but there was a certain 
race about it that lifted it above the demoralizing and disgusting 
Bal Bullier, which may be witnessed any Sunday evening in the 
- Boulevard St. Michel, in the Latin Quartier. Here young Paris 
takes its fling with unrestrained license. Girls extremely young in 
- years, but exceedingly old in vice, come in company with young 
men who are conspicuous by their great expanse ot: shirt-tront, cut 
~ Jow iu the neck so as to expose the collar-bones, massive cuffs which 
fall over the coarse, red hands, and bell-shaped trousers that almost 
hide their cramped-up feet. 

The ball begins about ten o’clock, and is opened by the can-can, 
danced by paid professionals, men und women. I doubt very much 
if any capital in Europe can show a more revoltingly disgusting 
display than this. But young Paris enjoys it immensely, and enters 
into the spirit of the fun with great heartiness, The shop-girls, 
catching the fever of excitement, cast modesty and bashfulness to 
the winds. By midnight the ball bas degenerated into a hellish 
revel, and in sorrow and shame I draw the curtain over it. 

As iurther evidence that we are not entitled to claim all the bru- 


JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 29 


tality, I may refer to the ‘‘ Salles,” where L’Art de la Saoate is 
practiced. No doubt comparatively few of my fellow-Saxons will 
ever have heard of L’ Art de_la Savate, theretore I may explain that 
it means kicking, and the ‘‘ savatay’’ is a kicker, pure and simple. 
This science holds much the same place amongst the French that 
boxing does with us. . A. boxing-match is generally a degradiny and 
demoralizing spectacle, but. it is a play compared, with the French — 
art of kicking. In the worst parts of Paris,-where it is practiced 
amongst the lower lasses, it is ferocious brutality of the very worst 
kind. The object of the two men opposed to-each other is to ki¢k 
each other’s shins; and if what is known as the cowp sec happens to — 
fall with full force on the sbin-bone, the leg is invariably broken, 
Then there is the coup de poing en avant, by which the jaw is kicked 
out of shape; and the coup de pi d en arriere, by which a man, 
having dropped on to his hands, by a quick, sudden movement, 
darts out one of his legs, and delivers a tremendous lunge in the 
abdomen of his opponent, with the frequent result of the production — 
of intense agony or death. These encounters are not rare, but very — 
frequent; and, as compared with the brutes who take part in them, 
I think we ought to be proud of our fellows who accept punches on | 
the head at from sixpence to eighteenpence a punch, 


CHAPTER V._ 


M. Jules Ferry’s Little Joke—French Morality—French Hypocrisy—Frenth 
Crime of Vitriol Throwing. 

M. Jutns Frrry, in a long circular, which he recently issued to 
the French schoolmasters, on moral teaching, tells them that the 
have to teach nothing ‘* but what is familiar to them, as to all 
honest people—namely, the ‘ good old morality we have received 
from our fathers.’’’ They are to speak with emphasis and aun- 
thority on all unquestioned truths and moral precepts, but to be very 
guarded whenever there is a risk of touching a religious sentiment 
—of which they are not the judges. M. Ferry conciudes by giving 
alist ot the books which have already been used by schoolmusters 
to assist them in this teaching; but he leaves them free to choose 
any text-book they please. The list contains some books which the 
clergy have declared objectionable. | 

M. Jules Ferry must have been in a grimly satirical mood when - 
he drafted that circular. On reading it one scarcely knows whether 
to laugh or blush. Fancy the good old morality we have received 
from our fathers! It sounds like a ghastly joke. 

Is there—I ask the question in sober earnestness—is there a more 
immoral people amongst the civilized nations of the earth than the 
French? 

To be French is to be immoral: the terms are synonymous. There — 
is only one other thing that is stronger in them, and that is vanity, 
With which ] shall deal a little later. 

Even the listless summer visitor to Paris, who sauntcrs leisurely » 
along the Boulevards staring into the shop-windows, is suddenly 
disgusted as his eyes light on some photograph or picture flaunted 
with brazen impudence in the public gaze. . But these are only the 


ae 


Vy ot. <* 


is aay 


ae 


30 JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. ‘ 
straws which show how the current flows. There is in the French 
mind a morbid craving for the beastly, and this craving is never al- 
lowed to go unsatisfied: The Bullier ball, the living sculpture, the 
sham wrestling between men and women, and other disgusting things 
that cannot be touched on here, are evidence of this; but if one takes 
a peacl literature, we find there a total disregard of even instinctive 
ecency. 

It a ago passed into a proverb, that French literature was coarse 
and immoral; but one must live in France and read French to 
thoroughly understand the degrading depths of filth that French 
writers descend to. As soon as ever gitls and boys commence to 
read they fly instinctively to this class ot literature, which renders 
them prurient almost before they have cast off their bibs. It is 
pitiable to hear how girls of tender age will talk of things that shock 
sensilive ears, and to see how youths, while yet the down is on their 
cheeks, are debased and debauched. This national immorality is, 
as it were, a pestilential blast that sweeps through the land and 
blights. : 

I once heard a distinguished Russian nobleman say, that if would 
be difficult to find an honest man or virtuous woman in all France, 
I am not quite prepared to indorse that, but 1 fearlessly assert that 
immorality is a national vice. You see it staring you in the face on 
the Boulevards at night; you see it in the cafés; in the Brasseries, 
where women are waiters instead of men; in sculpture galleries, in 
picture galleries, in illustrated papers, in shop-windows, in the 
theaters; it displays itself in the talk of the people and the acts of 
the people. It is howled forth from the painted lips of the raddled 
cancaneuse; it is heard in the dulcet tones of the lady in the salon, 


and it finds its culmination in the licensed houses—the “ Big Num- 


bers,’’ as they are called—where nightly thousands of unhappy and 
shameless women are actors in scenes that would make the very 
angels weep. ‘i 

Perhaps one could hardly expect to find even a mediocre standard 
ot morality in a country where marriage is purely a question of 
money. From the poorest peasants to the highest in the land, this 
question is zie question, and the only one, considered when mar- 
riage is concerned. ‘‘If there happens to be love between the con- 
tracting parties, well and good; but if there is not, it is not of the 
slightest consequence if the necessary ‘‘ Dot’? is there. ‘That is the 
great thing—the Dot/ How much has he or she got? It will readily 
be understood from this how it has come to bea saying that ‘a 
woman in France has only one husband, but many lovers.’’ In ten 
cases out of every twelve, the invariable result of these mercenary 
marriages is, that a few months, often a few weeks, after the cere- 
mony, th2 lover or lovers put in an appearance. The wife goes her 
way, the husband goes his, which is to his mistress; and this in- 
fidelity is the cause of the frighttul domestic misery common 
throughout France. This misery does not gain so much publicity 
as it occasionally does with us because there is no law of divorce in 
France; but it is there, nevertheless, as every one knows who has 
ever lived in the country, and frequently it displays itself in those 

hastly tragedies which make the world shudder—to wit, the 

Jharenton murder case the other day, which is a fair type, | 


ae aeyeae ca ina 


: cg | JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. a eee, 
' 18) 


me in went for the ood of the house, and iieretore she hoped 

that, when her performance was over, we should be liberal in our 
ivings, 

ae Her performance ”’ consisted in killing the dozen rats with her 

teeth in ten minutes, as timed by the humpbacked man, who was — 

the landlord, or possibly ** her agent.’’ 

The conditions were, ‘‘ La Femme des Rats ’’ was not to touch the 
vermin with her hands, but going down on all fours she was to seize 
3 them with her teeth as they issued from the small doorway of the 
tery \ Cage. 

The humpbacked man opened the door of the cage by. means of a 
100ked stick, and instantly ‘‘ La Femme des Rats ’’ dropped on to 

all fours. Ina few moments a big rat ventured to come forth from 
| the cage, and with a quick, sudden , agile movement, evidently the 
result of long practice, the woman “dashed at it, seized the animai - 
with her powerful teeth, then shook it off as would a terrier, and it 
lay writhing in the agonies of death in the sawdust. The cheering 
of the brutal and excited audience evidently frightened the rats, so 
that they huddled m a mass in one corner of the cage, and it became 
_ \necessary for the humpbacked inan to poke them out with his stick, 
The second that ventured to come out was seized and killed instant- - 
ly. Then two came out together. One was seized and disabled, 
and the other for a moment escaped, though the boards were too 
thigh to enable it to get.out of the ring. The cage was now lifted 
up by the hovked stick, and the rest of the rats shaken out. Then, 
with all the snaps and snarls and movements of a dog, the woman 
darted at the terrified animals, many of which flew at. the bare parts 
of her arms and at her face, inflicting wounds from which the blood 
streamed. I sickened with horror at the revolting sight, for any- 
thing more hideously indecent it had never been my lot to beholi. 
With half a minute to spare the creature accomplished her disgust- 
)ing task, and every one of the twelve rats was stretched in the saw- 
dust. Then, panting, bleeding, covered with dust and sawdust, the 
woman rose, and the drunken; brutal crowd cheered and shouted 
themselves hoarse. When ‘‘ La Femme des Rats’’ had somewhat 
recovered her breath, she handed round a little tin plate, and col- 
ected about ten francs. 
The ‘ entertainment ’’ I have here described did not take place, 
emember, among the brutal Saxons, but in the midst of the gentle 
auls; and I think 1 may venture to remark that all the brutality is 
not quite on our side. But bere is another picture: 
A little more than a year ago a bull-fight was advertised to take 
place at Aix-en-Provence, eighteen miles from Marseilles. The 
ntertainment was under the patronage and presence of the Mayor 
[om Municipal Council. It was a fete. day, and a tremendous crowd 


ot men, women, and children assembld to witness the edifying and 

refining spectacle. ‘The man who opposed himself to the animal was— 

an old, gray-headed Frenchman, and after he had gored and tortured 

— } the animal into fury, it made a furious onslaught upon him and 
{ nearly trampled him to death. The Mayor hereupon rose in his seat, 

} and ordered the exhibition to be stopped; but the gentle, lamb- like. 
Gauls had come to enjoy themselves, and what mattered it though 

an old gray-haired man was butchered to ne them a holiday? 


28 ares SOHN BUL’S “NEIGHBOR, 


They had brought their wives and ‘children, their a eath orth eae 
relations, out for pleasure, and they were not going to be balked. i 
So they demanded that the entertainment should proceed. The 
Mayor objected, and this objection aroused the lurking tiger. ; 
- and women rose en masse, and shouted, screamed, gesticulated, fran-_ 
tically aud-swore hor ribly, threatening if the show was not continued, 
thai they would burn the place down. So the mangled oldman was. 
dragged out of the ring by means of ropes, and his son Cone. the 
fight, and succeeded at last in slaying the bull. 

This revolting spectacle did not take place in Spain, nor even in 
London, but in La Belle France. Suppose we could read for 
‘“ Brance ” England. What would our dear neighbors say of us? 
They might teel that their language was too poor in condemnatory 
phrases to enable them to express their full measure of disgust and 
contempt. Really we ought to be very thankful that our country 
so far has been satisfied with man-and-dog fights and Amazonian 
encounters between. half-naked temales; and has not yet aspired to 
such displays as the mangling of an old man and the fiendish tort- 
uring of a bull. 

Coming back to the ‘‘ gay capital,’’ I was the eye- -witness of an- 
other exhibition such as I'am fain to believe has n0 counterpart — 
amongst us brutal Saxons. It was a display of what was described 
as Des Scuiptres Vivants, and this is what J] saw in a house not ten 
minutes’ walk from the Boulevard des Italiens:—In a large room a 
stage was fitted, and at a given signal the painted curtain was drawn 
up, revealing a revolving table, on which were posed four girls, two 
brunettes and two blondes. In respect to their attire, they were in 
exactly that state which we, are informed was peculiar to our first 

parents before the little incident of the apple, with the exception of — 
a gauze scarf that each carried and draped about her body, in ac- 
cordance with the statue she represented. ‘The limelight threw its_ 
searching rays over the tableau, which were highly appreciated by” 
a large anidience, consisting mainly of boys and young men, ; 
That this exhibition was “indecent, as viewed from our Saxon point 
of view, 1 think will be readily admitted; but there was a certain 
grace about it that lifted it above the demoralizing and disgusting | 
Bal Buliier, which may be witnessed any Sunday evening in the 
Boulevard St. Michel, in the Latin Quartier. Here young Paris 
takes its fling with unrestrained license. Girls extremely young in 
years, but exceedingly old in vice, come in company with young 
men who are conspicuous by their great expanse of shirt-front, cut 
low in the neck so as to expose the collar-bones, massive cuffs which 
fall over the coarse, red hands, and bell-shaped trousers that almost 
hide their cramped-up feet. 
The ball begins about ten o’clock, and is opened by the can-can, | 
danced by paid professionals, men and women, I doubt very much 
if any capital in Europe can show a more revoltingly disgusting 
display than this. But young Paris enjoys it immensely, and enters” 
into the spirit of the fun with great heartiness. The shop-girls, — 

catching the fever of excitement, cast modesty and bashfulness to— 
the winds. By midnight the ball has degenerated into a hellish. 
revel, and in sorrow and shame I draw the cuitain over it. 

As iurther evidence that we are not entitled to claim bas the bru 


art rams ce Sf 
br Sy ety 37 


> JOHN BULL'S NHIGHBOR. ‘<2. |: 29 


he ine) =e < : mi ‘ 
* tality, I may refer to the ‘‘Salles,”’ where L’ Art de la Savate is 
practiced. No doubt comparatively few of my fellow-Saxons will 
—ewet have heard of L’ Art de la Savate, therefore I may explain that 
it; means, kicking, and the ‘‘ savatar’’ is a kicker, pure and simple. 
- IYhis science holds much the same place amongst the French that 
hoxing does with us. A boxing-match is generally a degrading and 
demoralizing spectacle, but it is a play compared with the French 
a 


on, age A a NG TEP ee Ol) Ae a ees Se a Nee he a Okey oe 
BESET FINE cL tag Ra Les TM pene gh) ele 


ongst the lower -lasses, it is ferocious brutality of the very. worst. 


ni of kicking. In the worst parts of Paris, where it is practiced 
an 
i 


kind. The object of the two men opposed to each other is to kick 
each other’s shins; and if what is known as the coup see happens to 
fall with full force on the sbin-bone, the leg is invariably broken, 
_ Then there is the coup de poing en avant, by which the jaw is kicked 
omt of shape; and the coup de pi d en arriére, by which a man, 
Daving dropped on to his hands, by a quick, sudden movement, 
darts out one ot his legs, and delivers a tremendous lunge in the 
aly)domen of his opponent, with the frequent result of the production 
ol intense agony or death. These encounters are not rare, but very 
requent; and, as compared with the brutes who take part in them, 
_ IL think we ought to be proud of our fellows who accept punches on 
_ the head at from sixpence to eighteenpence a punch. 


cae -  OHAPTER V. 


? 
M) Jules Ferry’s Little Joke—French Morality—French Hypocrisy—French 
ae Crime of Vitriol Throwing. 


> 


| “hye JuLes Ferry, in a long circular, which he recently issued to 
thle French schoolmasters, on moral teaching, tells them that they 
have to teach nothing ‘* but what is familiar to them, as to all 


honest people—namely, the ‘good old morality we have received — 


3% 


from our fathers. They are to speak with emphasis and au- 
thority on all unquestioned truths and moral precepts, but to be very 
guarded whenever there is a risk of touching a religious sentiment 
—of which they are not the judges. M. Ferry concludes by giving 
_ alist of the books which have already been used by schoolmasters 
to’ assist them in this teaching; but he leaves them free to choose 


any text-book they please. The list contains some books which the 


clergy have declared objectionable. 

... M. Jules Ferry must have been in a vrimly satirical mood when 
he; drafted that circular. On reading it one scarcely knows whether 
to laugh or blush. Fancy the good old morality we have received 
from our fathers! It sounds like a ghastly joke. 


ils there—I ask the question in sober earnestness—is there a more * 


immoral people amongst the civilized nations of the earth than the 
French? 

_ To be French is to be immoral: the terms are synonymous. There 
18s/only one other thing that is stronger in them, and that is vanity, 
with which J shall deal a little later. 


\Even the listless summer visitor to Paris, who sauntcrs leisurely 


~  a’ong the Boulevards staring into the shop-windows, is suddenly 
disgusted as his eyes light on some photograph or piclure flaunted 
With brazen impudence in the public gaze. But these are only the 


at 


80 | JORN ‘BULL'S NEIGHBOR. s 


straws which show how the ‘current flows. “There is i the F 
mind a morbid craving for the beastly, and this craving is never al 
lowed to go unsatisfied. The Bullier ball, the living. sculpture, thi 
sham wrestling between men and women, and other disgusting thip 
that caunOl be touched on here, are evidence of this; butif onet 


Seeeney: ; 

It long ago passed into a proverb, that French literature was coal : 
and immoral; but one must live in France and read French to 
thoroughly understand the degrading depths of filth that French 
writers descend to. As soon as ever girls and boys commence to 
read they fly instinctively to this class of literature, which renders _ 
them prurient almost before they have cast off their bibs. It > 
pitiable to hear how girls of tender age will talk of things that shoc 
‘sensitive ears, and to see how youths, while yet the down is on their ' 
cheeks, are debased and debauched. This national immorality is, 
as it were, a pestilential blast that sweeps through the land ancl 
blights. ‘ 

T once heard a distinguished Russian nobleman say, that it would A 
be difficult to find an honest man or virtuous woman in al! 1 France. 
Tam not quite prepared to indorse that, but 1 fearlessly assert that 
immorality is a national vice. You see it staring you in the faceom 
the Boulevards at night; you see it in the cafés; in the Brasseries, 
where women are waiters instead of men; in sculpture galleries, im 
picture galleries, in illustrated papers, in shop-windows, in the 
theaters; “it displays itself in the talk of the people and the acts of © i 
the people. It is howled forth from the painted lips of the raddled = 
cancaneuse,; it is heard in the dulcet tones of the lady in the salon); be 
and it finds its culmination in the licensed houses—the *‘ Big Num-)) 9% 
bers,’’ as they are called—where nightly thousands of unhappy anid 
shameless women are actors in scenes that would. make the very 
angels weep. 

Perbaps one could hardly expect to find even a mediocre standard 
of morality in a country where marriage is purely a question of ae 
money From the poorest peasants to the highgst in the land, this 214 
question is the question, and the only one, considered when malt- 
riage is concerned. ‘‘If-there happens to be love between the com- 
tracting parties, well and good; but if there is not, it is not of the 
slichtest consequence if the necessary ** Dot ’’ is there. That is the . 
ereat thing—the Dot! How much has he or she got? It willreadily ~~ 
be understood from this how it has come to bea saying | thats oes 
woman in France has only one husband, but many lovers.’ In ten 
cases out of every twelve, the invariable result, of these mercenar’ 
Marriages is, that a few months, often a few weeks, after the cere 
mony, ‘the lover or lovers put in an appearance. The wite goes her 
way, the husband goes his, which is to his mistress; and this im- 
fidelity is the cause of the frightiul domestic misery commof 
throughout Fiance. This misery does not gain so much publicity ARO 
as it occasionally does with us because there is no law of divorce ih . eee 
France; but it. is there, nevertheless, as every one knows who has _ 
ever lived in the country, and frequently it displays itself in thos 
ghastly tragedies which make the world shudder—to wit, the 
. Charenton murder case the other day, which is a fair type. 


a 


‘ 


a & Ne 
Y are \ 


errata) te SOHN MRULW SH RIGHBOR.: *.,¢8 00) BL 


Of course, where there is so little regard for the sacredness of the 
marriage bond, it follows as a natural thing that the virtue which 
the French are so fond of talking about is only assumed, and, like 
French religion, is only the shadow of the substance. For it is cer- 
tain that if there is no virtue in France there is no religion, and yet 
a@ man or woman would rather die than not go to church on Sunday > 
morning. If the dictionary definition of the word hypocrisy is cor- 
rect, this is surely hypocrisy of a very repulsive kind. At any rate, 
I recommend it to the notice of M. Jules Valles. Perhaps he will 
set me right, if 1 am wrong. 

When parents have so little regard for morality, what can be ex- 
pected from the children? Young minds take their tone from their 
surroundings, and so it would be difficult to point to another coun- 
try where there is more juvenile depravity than in France. English © 
parents would do well to remember this when they contemplate 
sending their children to school there. 

When morality is lacking, a disregard for decency comes in its 
place, and this may account tor the many things that are allowed 
to shock foreigners who visit French towns. It accounts, also, for 
the filthy habits of the men and the shamelessness of the women. I 
am aware that this subject is not a pleasant one, and 1 would rather 

have avoided it, but niy liltle book would hardly have been com- 
plete unless I had touched upon it. 

It has been my lot to visit most of the big towns in France, and I 
most solemnly affirm that in any one of these towns there is more 
glaring immorality and indecency than our great, teeming London, © 
with its 5,000,000, could possibly show. We may be hypocritical, ’ 
gloomy, melancholy; we may correct our wives by thrashing them, 
instead of strangling them, shooting them, poisoning them, setting 
them on fire by pouring lighted mineral} oil over them, as was done 
a few days ago in Paris, and all of which modes of correction seem 
to be peculiar to Frenchmen; but we do, at least, hide away certain 
things in order that the sense of decency may not be too much out- 
raged. But amongst our gay and pleasant Gallic friends these 
things are managed differently. 

If the men in France have their own peculiar little ways for deal- 
ing with their wives and mistresses, the women are not behind them 
in the treatment of their faithless lovers, as witness the following, 
which I quote from a London daily paper*: 


' ** A whole series of those remarkable crimes of female vengeance 
Which from time to time disturb the serenity of French society has 
recently occurred at Paris, and has directed attention for the hun- 
dredth time to the alarming prevalence of this class of offenses. 
‘Two bad cases of disfigurement by vitriol-throwing were followed 
by two assassinations, the assailants being in each case a woman, and 
the cause of the crime being invariably the jealousy of a mistress 
‘who had been abandoned or threatened with abundonment, In oie 
instance, the crowded and popular emporium of the Louvre was the 

cene of the outrage. A woinan was observed to go up to one of the 


_ shopmen in charge of an important department, and suddenly draw- 


+ 


Ph 


Oe NG . * “ Morning Post,’’ December, 1883, 


aa 


—inga hottle oe vitriol, endeavor to drench the infor tunate 1 man with 


she only succeeded in inflicting comparatively slight injuries. As 


-she had been noticed. Her miserable victim was taken up from the — 


_or desertion as the motive of her crime need fear nothing from a 


SO oc ARIE TSE ECT tn meee LODO 


39 | JOHN BULL'S. NEIGHBOR. — 


the horrible fiuid. Her hand being arrested, however, by bystanders, 


her excuse, she declared that she had been betrayed, and that she 
had only sought 1o obtain revenge, | 

*‘ A couple of days afterward a more frightful affair took place. S 
A man who was about to be married was suddenly attacked in the eli 
street by a young woman, who, rushing toward him with a bottleof  —=s— 
vitriol, succeeded in emptying almost the whole of the contents over 
his face and neck before she could be prevented, and almost before — 


ground and carried to a hospitalin a condition impossible todescribe 

in adequate terms. The semblance of the human countenance was 
gone. The festering corrosive had eaten to the very bone likealiv- 
ing fire, and the pain of the sufferer was expressed in the most ter- 
rifying ‘shouts and yells of mortal agony. The woman was seized, 
and a couple of days later was, according to the usual proceeding in  —’ 
French law, to be confronted ‘with her victim. When told of his _ 
awful state, she exhibited no signs of contrition, but, onthecontrary, — 
declared that if she could get near enough she would tear off the 


bandages in which his frightful wounds were swathed in order to 


increase his tortures it she could. sane 
‘* What is called the drama of the Rue de Turenne only took ~ ee 


: place on Thursday last. <A rising young merchant was about to 


marry the niece of the proprietor of one of the large shops which = —S 

are becoming such a feature of modern Paris. The wedding party 

were all assembled at the house of the parents of the bride, waiting — 

for the arrival of the bridegroom to proceed to the solemnization of 

the marriage. After half an hour’s delay, there arrived not the — 

future husband but his partner and friend, who told the company ~_ 

the startling news that a woman had assassinated him, and thatthe — 

murderess was lying in a hopeless state from a revolver wound in- 5 

flicted by her own hand. As the young man was about to leave for 

the house of his fiancée, a girl with whom he had lived, and whom 

he had abandoned, had besought'a parting interview; had remorse- — 

lessly cut his throat so tearfully with a huge Catalan knife that he 

died within a couple of minutes; and had shot herself in the head 

with the pistol which, along with the knife, she had brought with 

her. 
‘It may be said that in this last case it was comparatively are- __ 

deeming feature that the murderess attempted her own life as well, 

and the circumstance will no doubt be made the theme of an 

irresistible appeal to the jury, should the assassin recover from ber 

serious injuries, and be brought Lefore a jury of the Department — 

of the Seine. But in truth, according to almost invariable precedent, 

a female vitriol-thrower or assassin in France who alleges jealousy “ie 


abe Oy 


French jury. The woman or girl who has avenged her slighted 
affection is always acquitted amid a scene of tender emotion, and 
leaves the court with proud humility amid the waving of moistened 
pocket-handkerchiefs. Numerous cases, as horrible as any we have 
mentioned, have occurred ot late years in France; and though some- 
times the victim was able to appear and present the evidence of his 


oe) 
oh i 4 oer: 
. ay ee Wed 


Pei lay onda ile eg Aare UR ala Rae aay Mam. We! 
j JOHN BULL’S NEIGHBOR. | 33 


seareu and distorted countenance, burned and withered almost out 
of human shape, the prosecution almost invariably failed to obtain 
the slightest penalty against any of the female perpetrators of such 
merciless savagery. 

‘‘In one notorious instance, where an actress had fired at and 
severely wounded a gentleraan who had left her and pensioned her, 
the culprit, after being acquitted by the jury, set out ona starring 
tour through the provinces, and half the theaters and cafés chantants 
between Calais and Marseilles competed for the possession of such a 
remarkable personage. 

“The extraordinary part of the phenomenon must appear to 
‘ordinary people to be that, while such strange sympathy, amounting 
to a habitual license for the most atrocious exhibitions of female 
revenge, sways the minds of the class from which the French juries 
are taken, there is no corresponding moral condemnation of the 
libertinism which is the root ot all the evil.” 


1 do not think we brutal Saxons can beat that, bad as we may be; 
and it must be remembered that such cases as those mentioned above 
are of almost daily occurrence in France. 


CHAPTER VI. 


The Deformed Feet of the French—French Vanity—The use of English things 
in France—A Frenchman Cousin to the Virgin Mary—The Spread of the 
English Language and the Decline of the French—Marseilles, a Sodom and 
Gomorrah—Misery of French Peasantry—The French Budget—Position of 


France. 


~ AS one peruses Mr. Max O’Rell’s book, he is led to the conclusion 
that the author, during his long exile amongst us, must have chron- 
ically been in that condition which causes a man to see double, in- 
asmuch as he states that all Englishwomen have prominent teeth ‘and 
large feet. Possibly the distinguished refugee suffered from the in- 
ferior absinthe sold in the cafés in the locality of Lee-ces-ter-square, 
or, it may be, our English ‘* pel-lel’’ * had the effect of producing 
an optical delusion. We can hardly hope that Mr. O’ Rel! will solve 
the problem for us, and life is too short for us to attempt to solve it _ 
for ourselves. We will consequently accept the prominent teeth asa 
new national characteristic. 'The big feet is not a new one, for our 
kind critics have never tired of dwelling upon this insular peculiarity. 
So far as my own limited intelligence allows me to form an opinion 
upon this question, | would respectiwlly beg leave io advance the 
proposition that large feet are not altogether a drawback. Mr. 
O’Rell, in common with all his countrymen, when he expends his 
Gallic wit upon our feet, quite overlooks the anatomical view of the 
subject. He himself represents a Latin, and consequently a small- 
boned race of people, while we, being Saxons, Normans, Danes, and 
Norsemen, come from a stock of large-boned men and women; and 
believe that it 18 admitted by anatomists that in a general way people 
with large and bony frames are more energetic, more determined, 
stronger and longer-lived than the races with small bones. This 


* Anglice, Pale Ale. 


mrs Ai haha © * Ween eat 


z§ 


34 ae ‘JOHN: BULL'S | | NEIGHBOR, 


would seem to account for three hlnes —(t) Our sitsentonte ti ie the 
French as a fighting people; (2) our superiority : -as explorers and col- 
_ onists; (3) our having worsted France in al] our encounters with her, ad 
whether of a naval, military, or diplomatic character. — 
If the above deductions are correct, we may tairly feel proud of 
our big feet. But suppose we turn our attention for a moment to t 
the small feet of our French friends. 
It is pretty certain that some day there will be ihelnded in exhi- 
 bitions of “‘ instruments of torture,’’a French boot. A Paris chirop- Cy . 
_ odist of some note once told me that seventy-five per cent. of French 
people had deformed feet. Whether this statement had any founda. — 
tion in fact or not I have never been able to satisfactorily determine, — 
but I am strongly disposed to believe it did not fall far short of the. 
truth. Fora Frenchman is eternally racking his brain to try and 
discover the very smallest possible amount of space into which his — 
feet will compress. The result of this is, as every one has seen, that — 
painfully mincing gait so peculiar to Fr ench people. 
It is a significant fact that the soldiers of the French army seem 
to have feet like other ordinary mortals so far as size is concerned; 
and this because the men are obliged to wear broad-sole boots with — 
low heels. As soon as ever a man comes out of the army, however, 
he goes.in for a course of the squeezing process, and in the course of — 
time, aided by a delusive, bell-shaped trouser-leg, and atter much — 
suffering, succeeds in deforming his feet apparently to Chinese pro- ia i 
portions. ies 
No one will fail to understand, unless he be very dull of compre- ft 
hension indeed, that this mania for small feet is the result of an un- 
bounded vanity. And my own impression is, that, were it not for ne 
this vanity, we could take a Frenchman toour bosom and really love 
him, his many other faults notwithstanding. But oh that a 
lt is dreadful. 
We all know what Prince von Bismarck said on this very subject. 
He declared Apollo to be the true type of a Frenchman, ‘‘ who will 
not own that another plays the flute better, or even so well as him- 
self.”’ There is a terrible stig and a great truth in this; forthe — 
French people believe, and are sincere in their belief too, that they =) 
are the salt of the earth. To attempt to convince them that there 
_ are other people as clever as they, if noi cleverer, would be as hope- 
'. less a task as to try to discover the ‘‘ fourth dimension.” Thissin- 
gular and amusing trait comes out very strong in M. Valles’ work, 
where he says that everything good and endurable in England is due. 
to a French origin. It is very strange this. One is almost tempted 
into the heresy of doubt, especially as we call to mind that at the ~ ct 
present moment French ‘railways are being modeled on the English 
pattern; that French gentlemen abjure their own tailors and go to. iyi 
English tailors for their clothes;* that Paris ladies are dressed, and 
Paris fashions set, by an Irishman—Mr. Worth; that recently a ‘bod: ‘ 


ix Na 


+ ag (yee ( 
cen Ata meeting a little while ago of the Syndicate of French tailors i in Par 
@ member, M. Ducher, made a compan which would seem to show that the hey 
taste for garments cut in the English style is rapidly spreading among French-- 
men. So recently as 1875, M. Ducher said, there were only thirteen Engl’sh_ 
tailors in Paris, doing business to the amount of 1 ,400,000 franes a year, where- ; 
as at A pryaens there are thirty-nine, whose dealings amount to 18, ates 000° yon! 


Se asin etd 5 Da te Sine i Ls i Sire as OAC UR Mi | ati DL al it dat eS Pla ll 
Pn ; bi A, ett , } at ie A Wh > ‘ v9 rey « ¥* * 


% 


‘ 


*- 


_ JOHN BUIL’s NEIGHBOR. =i 


of railway engineers came to London to study our Underground. 


Railway, in order that they may make one in Paris like it; that for 
a long time a project has been before the Paris public for building a 
place of recreation exactly like our Crystal Palace, on the same model 
and plan. (By the way, perhaps M. Valles will admit that we in- 
vented international exhibitions.) Nor is this all: there is a perfect 
rage in France just now for articles Anglais. English biscuits are 
consumed by hundreds and thousands of tons; English pale ale is 
esteemed far above any of the choice French brews; special Christmas 
literature and illustrated papers, @ /’ Anglaise, have recently come 
into yogue; English cuulery takes precedence over French, and En- 
glish electro-plate is regarded as infinitely superior to anything 
France can turn out. English plum-puddings are also looked upon 
as dainty bonne bouche, and are eagerly coveted, and a chef who can- 
not concoct a plum-pudding in the English manner is not considered 
to be perfect in his art. An English razor is said to be worth half a 
dozen French ones; and English soaps are much prized; while no 
fashionable house is considered to be properly furnished unless the 
floors of its best rooms are covered with English carpets. English 
flannels find a ready sale in preference tv French ones; English car- 
riages, dog-carts, saddlery, and small things of that kind, are the 
rage. And next to being dressed well, a fashionable French lady’s 
ambition is to learn to ride like an English miss or madam; and will 
French men or women deny that we have taught them to ride? And 
so I might go on almost ad infinitum, but 1 have said enough to 
show that M. Valles, in his haste to pass a verdict upon us, did not 
judge us fairly. Stop!—I must not forget to mention that English 
agricultural implements and machinery, English bicycles and _ tri- 
cycles, English ink, pens, and sealing-wax, are to be found every- 


where in France now. But, as I have said, French vanity is a very 


real thing. It yields to nothing or nobody. And could this be bet- 
ter exemplified than by citing the case of the French Duke of Levis, 


who used to show an old painting, which represented one or his an- 


cestors, a Prince oi Judah, bowing to the Virgin Mary, who says, 
** Couvrez-vous, mon cousin?’? ‘Then the well-known family of 


_Croy possessed a no less silly picture, which showed Noah entering. 


the ark, and exclaiming, ‘‘ Sauvez les papiers de la maison de Croy.”’ 
But this is quite in keeping with the expression of Madame de la 
Meilleraye, a cousin of Cardinal Richelieu, who, speaking of the 
Chevalier de Savoie, a man of high birth but most dissolute habits, 
who had been rebuked, said, ‘* Depend upon it, God will think twice 
before damning a gentleman of his quality.’’* 

The Duc de Clermont-Sonnerre also said, in speaking of himself, 
“God will never dare to damn a duke and peer.’’+ 
_ A people who can be guilty of such silly vanity as this may almost 


be pardoned for thinking all other nations inferior to themselves. 
And yet French vanity is a very objectionable thing, as it quite pre- 
vents our dear neighbors from seeing aught good in any one else. 


Even the English language is not studied in France because the 


” 


 *® Quand il s’agit des gens de cette qualite, Dieu y regarde bien a deux fois 
pous les damner. 


"on + Le bon Dieu nara jamais le coeur de damner un due et pair, 


rs = 2 ve a. r ‘ 
Se Ps a 
ey ee be f 7” 
. TA, oy 
fe yn PAN 


See fa tel 


. French believe that their own is to become the universal language 


‘still picks up English words with far more ease than French ones, ee ah on 4 


Fe eo ea tof Che WHS ‘s 


B61 71 JOR BUUINS NMIGR BOR Hue aaa 


DAW 


of the world. And this in spite of recently-published figures, which — 
show that French speaking people are declining, and French is not — 
now spoken by more than 50,000,000. Whereas, English is rapidly 
spreading, and is spoken by upward of 150,000,000. Infact, ithas — 


halt-century the English tongue will have spread all over the earth. ~ 
This is quite understood by our kinsmen the Germans; and some of 


‘their writers have actually published their principal works in En- 


glish first, in order to secure that attention which it is the pardona- — 
ble vanity of all authors to think themselves entitled to; and, sec- 
ondly, to Jay the best foundation for immortality. German writers 
are justified in this, for they know that their own countrymen go 
forth as emigrants by thousands to English and American colonies, __ 
and their children help to swell the great English-speaking races, 

Nor is the decline of French to be at all wondered at, for in no way 

will it compare with the grand, resonant, vigorous, sturdy English | 
tongue, every word of which. nearly has a value. Whereas, in 
French, out of about 40,000 words of which it is composed, 20,000 

are said to be almost useless, and 10,000 more so pedantic as to be 
seldom uttered; consequently, the French tongue is reduced to about 
10,000.* The above remarks, which are based on statistical returns, — 
ought to have some tendency to check French Chauvinism. But it 

will do nothing of the sort. If the author of *‘ Va-nu-Pieds de Lon- 

dres ’’ were writing a new edition of his work to-morrow, and had 

the above facts before him, he would still describe London asa place 

of ‘‘ a quarter of a million prostitutes; where there is frightful de- 
bauchery of the young; and miles of gloomy public-houses filled 
with besotted wretches.’’ As 1 have attempted to show, all these 
things have their counterpart in every part of France. Look at 
Marseilles, for instance. Surely some day the fate of Sodom and 
Gomorrah will overtake that superlatively wicked city. Look at 
Lyons, Bordeaux, Macon. 1 have always thought, in common with 

a large portion ot the world, that ‘* the debauchery of the young ”’ 

was an institution very peculiar to France. This would really seem 

to be true, if we may judge from the fact that in Paris alone there 

are said to be 5,000 girls under thirteen years of age leading immoral 
lives; 7,000 under fifteen; and 85,000 under eighteen. This seems 

to be debauchery of the young with a vengeance; and it is well to 


* In an article which he has just contributed to the “‘ Revue Scientifique,” 
General Faidherbe, the Grand Chancellor of the Legion of Honor, has given 
expression to an opinion which is already attracting a good deal of attention. 
In examining the measures which it would be best to employ with a view to 
the propagation of the French language throughout the colonies, the General, 
who is no mean authority on the subject of which he treats, as he “has so- 
journed long in Algeria, Senegal, and other French possessions, positively de- 
clares that native populations take far more readily to English than to the 
tongue of the conquering race. This he ascribes to the difficulties which the 
barbarian encounters in his efforts to conjugate the French verbs, and so 
forth. General Faidherbe recommends the formation of classes, in which the 
French names for ordinary objects should be taught. Most of the tenses 


‘ should be removed from the grammar, and as for the genders, the less said. 
_ about them the better. Some critics have already taken exception to these — 


suggestions. It is at least instructive to learn that even in Algeria the Arab 


» 


been calculated, on the basis of fairly accurate data, that in another 2 


JOHN BULL’S NEIGHBOR. pan ys 
remember that these 47,000 young girls of tender years have a license. 
from the Government to ply their hideous trade, and the figures do 
not include many thousands of wretched outcasts who have no 
license at all.* — 

Again, French vanity—if it were not an incurable disease—ought 
to receive a wholesome shock in the statement made at a recent meet- 
ing of the *‘ Trades Confraternity’’ at Paris. The speaker, M. 
Martin Nadaud, the deputy for Creuse, told his hearers that, accord- 
ing to official statistics presented to the French Chamber, there are 
no fewer than ‘* 140,000 houses in France unprovided with the ele- 
mentary convenience of windows, and which have no other flooring 
than the soil; that are utterly without even the most rudimentary 
sanitary conveniences; that are without chimneys and without light; 
and that whole families live in them, together with the domestic 
animals and pigs for guests.”’ 

Such a statement as this, coming from so authentic a source, will 
certainly shock our dense Saxon minds, and we shall no doubt won- 
der to ourselves what is likely to be the fate of the young of these 
families. Any one who knows anything of the French peasantry of 
the small villages, especially in Dauphine, must be horrified at their 
besotted brutishness, their gross superstition, their filthy habits, their 
utter ignorance, and the debauchery of their children. For how 
can the young, reared amidst such surrouudings,.be otherwise than 
debauched? It is, indeed, a sickening picture, and one almost weeps 
over it; and I would pray to M. France, if 1 thought that he would 
heed my ptayer, to kindly turn his attention to his own debased 
country, and in his own small way do his endeavor to raise these 
thousands and thousands of his countrymen, and women, and chil- 
dren, who are sunk in a Stygian slough of body and soul destroying 
moral filth. In fact, the present condition of France is such that 
the efforts of every Frenchman are seriously needed, if they would 
Save their suffering country frum horrors that will totally eclipse 
those of the past. Speaking of the present condition of France, a 
recent well-informed writert draws a very gloomy picture of the 
country. He says: 

** The past year has been for France serious, yet indecisive; gloomy 
as regards events; meager in results. In politics, industry, and 
finance, it does not leave a single bright spot on the horizon. It has 
created gaps, and left them unfilled; it has raised questions without 
Solving them. It is oneof the most anxious and least glorious years 
_ which have elapsed since the fall of the Empire. At its very outset 
it was marked by the deaths of Gambetta and Chanzy; not to speak 
of the tragical end of De Wimpften, the Austrian Embassador. 

*“'The void caused by Gambetta’s death can now be gauged, and 
its effects. may be summed up in the phrase, ‘ As he was not to com- 
plete his work, it would have been better had he not appeared.’ He 
has left no doctrine or disciple, no principle or solution; and in all 
his utterances there is not. one of those truths which survive the 
speaker, and are a beacon for the bewildered. He had, however, 

+i . 

_* The latter class come under the heading in French of Prostituees clandes- 
tines, and Filles libres. These last are said to be as 1 to every 341 inhabitants, 
Paris Correspondent of the “‘ Times.” 


a 3 


PRET re Me OY Od LE ne SU ION ont: REAR en ae EE Re ae 


JOHN. - pontts NEIGHEOR. — 


rs that breadth of mind and readiness of conception which Jeads aman 
cy, suddenly to retrace his steps. — ‘Long prior to his death he had pe 


ceived the injury he had inflicted on French moral interests, dome 
tic peace, and the development of Republicanism, by the thoughtless 
ery of Le Cléricalisme voila Vennemt/ He was quite prepared to 


call back the mob, and to remedy the blunders caused by his rally-_ 
ing cry; but his ‘professed followers, once on the scent, continue — 
blindly to follow it, deaf to those who tell them they have jong gone 


_ too far and should hark back. They indulge in tactics both ridicu- 


lous and odious, and damage their master’s reputation by citing his : i 
long-past cry in fustification of their stupidity. The Governnient 
‘will be forced in January or February to raise a loan to cover the 


deficit, sf 
“That the Shien is too true, every Frenchman must admit. Even 
’ M. Paul Leroy, a rabid Republican, has openly declared that “‘ sel- 


dom in the whole course of history has the situation of iv rance been, © 


from an international point of view, more precarious,’ 

Her people are worse paid, harder worked, infinitely more heavily 
taxed, worse clothed, worse fed, and more ‘debased than the same 
classes are in our Own country. "hey. are subject to an inquisitorial 
system of espionage by a ruffian and corrupt police, every man of 


whom has his price; they are badgered by government officials; they . . 
are ground down by an iron law of conscription, and political Libs Sy 


erty there is none. And the potent cause of this misery and decay 
is the want of continuity of an honest government. ‘The budget 
drawn up for the present year reaches the enormous sum of £160,- 
000,000, or nearly double what our own is; and that £160,000, 000 
represents an annual taxation of upward ot “£4 10s, per head of the 
population. On this very subject our own *‘ Pall Mall Guzette,”’ 
which is strongly French in its sympathies, writes: 

“The enormous budget for 1884 is being successfully hustled 
through the French Senate, which resigns itself to indorsing the 


votes of the Chamber. This impotence of the Senate is all the more 


to be regretted as the expenditure’ of the Republic stands sadly in 


need of overhauling. But to astill greater extent it is attributable — 


to the deplorable carelessness of the Chamber of Deputies about the 
public money. ‘Their collective interest, as a Chamber, in keeping 


_ down expenditure is nothing like so strong as the individual interest | 


- of the majority of members in multiplying small places, which will 
enable them to purchase local popularity and so keep their seats.”’ 

- Another able authority, and a Frenchman to boot, says: *‘ Paris 
is not prospering, or France either; but Paris is far worse off than 


France. The working classes earn their bread, as arule, from two _ | 
- branches of industry, namely, the manutacture of articles de luve 
» and bouse-building. ‘rhe latter class still finds a fair amount of © 


employment, but in a very short time this will be no longer the case. 


‘There are now whole streets of ney and untenanted houses. We ; 


_ may be quite sure that a year hence there will be no more building ~ 


In Paris. 1 attribute the present state of things to the marked de- 


preciation in the fortunes and incomes of the wealthier classes dur-_ 
Ing the past two years. This also accounts for the fact that the 
isa far smaller demand tor olyets de luxe. Then, too, the diminu. 
tion of France’s prestige has reacted on ae Success of any kind 


a 


PED 


a Aa ee J0nN BULLS: NEIGHBOR. dated 89 


‘ eh that. won on the battle-field, benefits the trade et a country. 3 
The strikes and exaggerated pretensions of some of the workmen | 
have also lost some of its markets to Parisian industry. I deeply 
regret the blunders made by those who have directed France’s econ- 
omic and financial policy during the past five years. If the State 
gives up prodigality, such as no other nation has ever been guilty 
of; if it adopts a conciliator y and conservative policy; and if it tries. 
to win the confidence of the public, instead of disquieting interests — 

with plans of new taxes on incomes and luxuries, and with projects 
of State socialism—then what is incorrectly termed the crisis. may . 
gradually diminish. But if the State perseveres in the financial de- 
bauch inaugurated some years ago, | really do not know what the 
position of Paris, and even France, will be in 1885 and 1886,’?* 

Although 1 know it will not, I still fain would hope that the fore- 
going startling facts might exercise some salutary influence upon 
French vanity, but it isa plant of too strong a growth. Its roots 
go down into the earth and are nourished with ‘blood, and its branches 
tower up into the clouds. 


CHAPTER VII. 


French Dueling and its Absurdity—The Valor of M. Jules Valles—The Decora- 
tion of the Legion of Honor—French Officialism: its Arrogance and Im- 
- pertinence—The Paris “‘ Figaro ”’ on Official Jobbery and Dishonesty—* Lib- 
erté, Egalité, Fraternité ’’—The Brotherhood of Cain-«‘‘ Be my Brother Orsi 
I will Kill you’’—The French Police—The Spy System—The Torture in 

- French Prisons. 


1 pwELT at some length in He preceding chapter on the extraor- 
'dinary vanity of our good neighbors: a vanity so overpowering that: 
it blinds them to any little good qualities other nations may possess. 

lt has generally been supposed that this human weakness was one 

- peculiar to women, but in France it affects both sexes alike. In 

the women it displays itself in an inordinate love for finery and dress, 

and in the men in a desire to have small feet, some jewelry, and to 

be thought handsome; while in both sexes, it leads them to look 

upon everything that is not French as utterly beneath contempt. 

_ French women, however, are far superior to the men. Not only do 
they possess courage, but they occasionally display heroism. 

lt was Voltaire, ia} think, who said, ‘* Frenchmen are the women 

of Europe.” A Frenchman has no real courage, The tiger in his 

_ nature can always be aroused, and then he becomes daringly fero- 

cious, but without this he is a tame, morbidly-sentimental creature. 

+ If a Frenchman of the middle class happens to be struck in a dis- 

pute or quarrel, he falls to and weeps to think that such an indig- 

nity should have been put upon him. If he belongs to the lower 

_ class, he resents a blow by slashing his opponent with his knife or 

viciously kicking him like a mad bull. The foreigner who lives in 

_ France grows weary and sick at hearing the eternal cry about French 

- honor—-the honor that, being only veneer, is satisfied with the 

eet scratch. Could anything be more ridiculous, more child- 

AY » more pitiable than the so-called *‘ encounters ”’ that one hears as 


| 3 - * M, Paul Leroy-Beaulieu, ** Journal Des Debats,”’ J anuary 25, 1884, 


Ne) FAN RENE DD. Strat Fs 
Ae FS ate 4 LE .t ee | 


40 JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR, = 


“having taken place between two Frenchmen whose honor and pride 


have been wounded; though it is generaliy the pride and not the 


honor, as that is only a very flimsy thing in France. Well, two of — 


these women of Europe, having heaped vile abuse upon each other’s 


. heads, agree to ‘‘ meet.’’ The hour comes, and, havin one 
g & 8s 


through a good deal of farcical ceremony, put on their cleanest 
shirts, and well-primed themselves with absinthe, they start oft with 
their friends, and the ‘‘ encounter ’’ takes place. There is generally 
a good deal of terrific sparring, just for the look of the thing, you 
know; then one of them receives a little scratch—sometimes, per- 
haps, he carries a pin in the band of his trousers, and scratches him- 
self; the doctor rushes forward at the sight of two or three beads of 
blood; declares thut the much-damaged honor is now quite well 
again; the two combatants, the seconds, the doctor, and their friends 
fall upon each other’s necks and weep, and, putting on their clothes, 
repair to the nearest café tor some more absinthe.* Sometimes it 
happens that the weapons chosen for these dreadful meetings are pis- 
tols, in which case the seconds are very careful to impress upon the 
principals to hold their weapons pointing upward at an angle of forty- 
five degrees, so that the bullets may pass harmlessly toward the clouds. 
Of course, it occasionally comes about that accidents occur, owing to 
these gentlemen of wounded honor handling their weapons carelessly ; 
then, very Jikely, one of them gets run through the body or shot 
through the lungs, and, as a natural consequence, dies. There is a great 
deal of weeping then, and much absinthe is consumed. If the slain 
one happens to have had a wife or mistress, a sum of money is given 
to her, and she hastens to get a new husband or lover, as the case 
- May be. . | ne 

Now, even we gloomy and melancholy Saxons think all this very 
funny and droll; for, when our fogs and our gloom permit us, we 
are capable of discerning the ludicrous side of a thing. No doubt, 
also, M. Jules Valles takes much the same view as ourselves. At 
any rate, that doughty gentleman displayed almost grim humor the 
other day, aiter he had applied so many pretty terms to the students 
of the Quartier Latin. ‘The denizens of that scholastic Alsatia did 
not like being accused of empty-headedness, of rottenness, and im- 
becility. Consequently, they sent a deputation to wait upon the 
somewhat too irascible editor of ‘* Le Cri du Peuple.’’ The stud- 
ents, no doubt, were very much in earnest, so M. Jules Valles showed 
his redoubtable valor by refusing to see them, fearing possibly that 
he might get too deeply scratched. But he gave them this answer 
in his paper: ‘‘ I will only meet you behind a barricade.”’ It is not 
very clear what this meant; though, no doubt, some of M. Valles’ 


* On Tuesday, January 29, present year, M. Jules Gros, chief editor of the 
** Petit Comtois,’’ conceived himself to be offended by something that was said in 
the ‘*‘ Democratic Franc-Comtois,’’ of which M. Viette, Deputy of the Doubs, is 
considered to be one of the inspirers. A challenge was sent and a duel decided 
upon, it was fought (sic) on the date named on the Plateau of Chatillon. The 
weapons were pistols, and the distance thirty-five paces, at which most people 
would find a difficulty even in hitting a hay-stack. M. Viette fired first, and 
his bullet lodged in the lining of his antagonist’s coat ; M. Gros then discharg- 


_ ed his weapon in the air. Honor was then declared to be satisfied: both men | 
shook hands, and the whole party adjourned to a café to breakfast. Vide — 


Paris Press, J anwary 30, 1884. 


wr 


RR Creat ar On 


iy 


eer Fi EV ar ee PRO a gee AN heen 4? Minis ids Cog ie eA Ba ae SAE Nat at eT Ao ad atl 
"de! | a £ } , : , 


} 


- Communistic memories of 1870-71 were uppermost at that moment. 
The disappointed students consequently have not yet had the satis- 
faction of scratching the brave editor. If, instead of French stud- 
ents they had been English, they would have horsewhipped M. Valles 
or have thrown him into a horse-pond; possibly have done both. 
But then they manage these things very much better in France. 
Next to this, what we are pleased to think in our insular stupidity, 
ridiculous system of dueling for the satisfaction of an honor. that re- 
quires a microscope to discover it, is the absurd craving ina French- 
man’s mind for a ‘‘ decoration.’’ Here, again, that powerful na- 
tional vanity displays itself, and if a Frenchman can only get a bit 
of tinsel round his cap, or the tiny scrap of red ribbon at his button- 
hole, he is supremely happy. lf we Saxons have decorations, we 
generally stow them away, but a Frenchman flaunts his on every 
possible occasion. Only give one.of our worthy friends a tin medal 
for something or other, and he will strut about as proud as a pea- 
cock. It is within the power of nearly every. Frenchman to become 
a ‘* Chevalier of the Legion of Honor,’’ and as they all get the dec- - 

oration, it may account for their freedom from the gloom and mel- 
ancholy that affects us. Now it does not matter in France whether 
you are a butcher, a baker, or hotel-keeper, or dust contractor, or 
chimney-sweeper, that little morsel of red ribbon, denoting the 
Chevaliership, is within your reach. 1 fancy that no more senseless 
decoration exists in Europe or the world. 

Following this craving comes the one to hold some official ap- 
pointment. It doesn’t matter what it isso long as it is ‘* Officiel.”’ 
To be a Chevalier of the Legion of Honor, and to be an official, are 
the summum bonum of a Frenchman’s ambition. 

Throughout France officialism is its curse. 1t is at once insolent, 
arrogant, overbearing, insulting. Every foreigner who has ever 
visited the country knows this to his bitter cost. Officialism is a 
bugbear and incubus that you cannot shake off. It meets you at 
every step. Do you want to get a letter registered, go into a bureau 
de poste, and see how you will be insulted by the jackanapish 
officialism there, as it puffs its villainous tobacco-smoke into your 
face; and if you happen to be a defenseless woman, depend on it it 
will be more insolent. Do you want to claim a piece of luggage 
from the dowane, go to the window of the cadsse, and as officialism, 

_ with a savage glare, opens the tiny pigeon-hole, letting a stream of 
tobacco-smoke and carbonic-acid gas flow into your nostrils, note 
how overbearing it is, though possibly it has only been just raised 
from the gutter. Do you want to take a journey somewhere by 
train, behold how officialism tramples upon you, and, still half- 
asphyxiuling you with smoke, it shuts you up ina pen as if you were 
cattle. ‘Then when you are released, approach officialism on the 
plaiform with a view to making some inquiry, and you will start 
back in horror, especially if you be a woman or young girl, as offi- 

 cialism turns and half-blinds you with its cigarette smoke, and half- 
chokes you with its garlic-reeking breath, as itroars; Je ne sais pas. 

_If you go to a theater, officialism confronts you; always smoking, 

ind, for smoke is its badge. If you ride in an omnibus, you meet: 

; if you visit the Invalides, it rises up and crushes you. It is, in 

act, an “‘old man of the sea,’’ that you cannot by any possibility 


i") JOHN, BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 41 


JOHN ‘BULL'S. | NEIGHROR, area" (eh 
ar 


shake off. And thou gh sanelinies you. are tempted to take official. a 
ism by the nose and tweak it, and thrash some of the insolence out — 
of it, it is better that you do not, for then you would be confronted. Ses 


. with officialism in an infinitely more terrible form. 


‘Here are some few particulars as to what officialism means in 


Sars, These particulars are taken from the Paris *‘ Figaro, ”” and 
consequently are not evolved out of the inner consciousness of a 
bruta] Saxon. The writer in the ‘‘ Figaro ’’ waxes indignant at the 
| scandalous jobbery and waste of public money in providing the 

“idle monkeys ’’ with positions. He asserts that at the Ministry of 
ery alone there are 159 employes living rent free. At the Minis- 
of Commerce the ‘‘ housekeeping expenses ’’ were, in 1875, 

6 000,000 francs perannum. In the Budget for 1884 these expenses 
are put down 21,000,000. It seems incredible, but it is true. The 
cost of lighting that same Ministry in 1875 was only 2,500 francs; 
now it is 23, 000. Fuel was charged for in 1875, 20,000 francs; now 
it is 40,000. Postage and telegraphs in the same perioa have risen 
from 2. 500 francs to 40,000, and linen from 600 francs to 11,500. 
‘These figures are startling, and this drain of the taxes, which are 
ground out of the peasantry, goes to support an immense army of 
useless, idle nincompoops, whose vanily has led them to lick the dust 
off somebody’ s shoes, in order to get into official positions. It is well 


we 


known that French official salaries are ridiculously low, but it is — 


made up for by perquisites, such as lighting, fuel, free quarters, 
furnishing; and there are ten men to do the work of one. It is the 
same in the post office, telegraph, custom-house—in short, in every 
public department. 

Goethe wrote in the second volume of his ‘‘ Aphorisms,”’ and re- 
ferring to the French: ‘‘ What sort ot liberality is that which every- 
body talks about, but will hinder his neighbor from practicing.’ 
That is peculiarly a French state of matters, Liberality is dinned 
into your ears until you sicken, but it is never, never practiced. On 
church doors, on the public buildings, on the bridges, every where in 
France is carved the Republican motto: ‘* Liberty, Equality, Fra- 
ternity.’’ Never before, save in France, has such a grim and ghast- 
ly satire been perpetuated in stone. Liberty there is none, as I will 
prove; equality consists of the rich looking down with contempt on 
the ourgeots, and ot the bourgeois hating with venomous hatred the 
canatle. ‘The fraternity is what Sebastian Chamfort called a 
Brotherhood of Cain ’’—that is, ‘‘ Be my brother, or 1 will kill thee.’’* 

So much for Luberté, Fraternité, Hgalité, in France. And now for 
the vaunted liberty of free and civilized France. Let us see what it 


is. 
“There is not a French deputy or prefect who has not his doings 


reported from day to day. The £80,000 voted for ‘‘ sectet service 


money ’’ annually must be accounted for somehow; not to the au- 
thorities, because no such account is eve1 given or expected, but to 
the ‘outside world, who protest, but still allow the system to con- 


tinue. An English journalist not many weeks ago told a garde 


— municipal that “he was an idiot. He was arrested there and then, 
_ The thing happened in a theater. The commissary began by bully- 


* Sois mon frere, ou je te tue, 


Me gO, Sep Pee Pe te PONT Ae: 


JOHN ‘BULL'S NEIGHBOR. i 4 


a ‘and ‘ghabd by letting the journalist go, on his promise to appear 
the next morning. A proces-verbal was drawn up. ‘I'he commis- 


sary, who saw the merits of the case, recommended the journalist to 


see the substitute of the Procureur de la Republique to explain the 
matter. The journalist went for three successive days, and came 
away with a flea in his ear. He decided to let the matter rest; for 
four weeks he did not hear of it. At last he received a summons to 
appear at the Police Correctionelle. Meanwhile every inquiry had 
been made in almost every place where he was, known, including the 


various apartments he had occupied during his several years’ stay in 


Paris. The political shades of the various journals: he represented 


- were ascertained; his friends were watched; also the company they 


frequented. The matter came before the court; he was tined fifty 
francs and costs, and another fifty francs for having callea a police- 
man an idiot. This is but an infinitesimal part of the system. 

You cannot live in Paris tor a day but what it is known who you 
are, where you have come from, what you are going todo. Hear 
what a Frenchman himself has to say on the subject. * 

** There are in the Paris police at the present time 7,756, exclusive 
of officiel and gendarmes. ‘These men are divided into two distinct 
classes—Gardwens de la Patz and the mouchards or spies. ‘They are 


both paid alike, that is, from 2,000 francs a year. But there is this 


difference, that the spies get a reward of 200 francs for capturing a 
murderer. Besides the two classes here named, there is a third class 
known as Indicateuwrs. This class is as secret and mysterious as the 
Inguisition, and its special functions are to keep an eye on the upper 
classes. When a crime has been committed, the mouchards are 
put on the trail to ferret out all that is to be learned.”? M. Guyot de- 
scribes these men as being for the most part former officers of low 
grade in the army. They are, he says, crafty and unscrupulous, and 
walk into a, room with the ‘ ‘ sidelong motion of a crab.’’ These de- 
lighiful creatures are also employed to watch political ‘* suspects,”’ 


and they send in reports of all the gossip and slanders about them, 


which they can pick up at the wine shops and doubtful places of 
resort. M. Guyot says that he himself has often been watched, and 
that he has read the reports that have been sent in about him. In 
these reports he is surprised to find that he has visited cafés that he 


ey 
i’ 


ee 


knows nothing of, a language has been put into his mouth such as — 


the mouchards use in the horrible slang they bandy between them- 
selves. The author of this entertaining book goes on to relate that 
on one occasion he was defendant in some legal proceedings institut- 


ed against him for libel, he having stated in the press that torture 


was practiced in the prisons. ‘These statements on the trial were sub- 
stantiated and corroborated by fourteen of the mouchards, who said 
that “‘ there existed a custom of torturing prisoners awaiting trial in 
the police cells, in order to extort from them confessions of guilt,’’ 
The torture consisted ‘‘ in tying twine round the wrists of the vic- 
tims, and drawing it tightly, so as to cut the flesh and draw blood.”’ 
The torture is technically known as ‘‘ Passer au tabac, ” the origin 


of which is not given. x, 


* M, Yves Guyot, Journalist, member of the Paris yar Seay and 


Orator, i in “ La Police,” published by Charpentier et Cie, Paris, 1 
40 


o. ” ehas SPSS PRR Eee BEE Ih Sti ty es ee ih st be ee RUT en Ee 


Meal oe ee 
44 ‘a JOHN “BULL'S NEIGHBOR. 


Reader, pray do not forget that you are not reading a page of a. 

work on Russia, but an extract from a book published i in and hav- 
ing reference to highly-civilized France. I, for one, thank God that 
I can boast of being a brutal Saxon. “ 
- Proceeding with extracts from M. Guyot’s work. What do my 
countrymen think of this? ‘‘On the 2ist of December, 1879, a poor 
woman named Ninus, the wife of a mason, was arrested by one of 
‘these human vampires on a false charge of begging. For three days 
she was kept in close confinement, without being even allowed to 
state her case, or to represent to the Commissary of Police of the dis- 
trict that her infant child was dying at home for want of nourish- 
ment; and the child did die. ‘The police authorities did not deny 
that the poor woman was unjustly accused, or that she was kept in 
prison for three days; but they sent their police surgeon down to the © 
woman’s house to examine the body of the child, and he reported 
that the infant had died of disease.” 

One would like to know how much he was paid for that report. 

M. Guyot goes on to cite hundreds of other cases in which per- 
sons have been arrested and subjected to indignities without the 
slightest apparent excuse, at the will of the horrible mouchards. 
During 1882, 46,457 arrests were made by the police in Paris, and of 
this vast number only 1,502 were made by virtue of wartants regu- 
larly obtained. No fewer than 5,618 were arrested for ‘‘ rebellion,”’’ 
which means resistance to the police. If a policeman knocks you — 
down in Paris, and you get up again before he tells you, you would 
be resisting him, and he would arrest you. 

Any one who livesin “‘ garnis ’’ (furnished apartments) may be vis- 
ited by the mouchards at any hour of the night, and without any 
prior warning. Think of it mothers who have daughters. 

All the hotels are under the abominable system of espionage, and 
a landlord who doesn’t render an account of all his visitors every 
night to the bureau of the police, is heavily fined. The common 
lodging-houses are the happy hunting-grounds of the mouchards. 
They make raids upon these places, capture whole bands of people, 
and drag them before the Commissary at the police-station. Here 
they are scrutinized, and those who are wanted are detained; whilst 
the others are released after some inquiry has been made about them. 
The mouchards get five francs for every previous offender who is 
convicted of fresh offense, however trivial; and so it will be under- 
stood why they throw such a large net. M. Guyot, who was for- 
merly a Prefect of Police, states that in no city in Europe is there so 
large a number of arrests as in Paris, for the reason that in no other 
city is there so little scruple in making them. So much for the 
mouchards. 

Here is another interesting little extract, also taken from ‘* La Po- 
lice,’’ *‘ On the 17th August, 1883,’’ M. Guyot says that the follow- 
ing details appeared in the columns of * La Lanterne’:—‘* An Amer- 


ican famiiy,-consisting of Mr. Theodore Heine, an American, his ~ 


wife, and a friend, had been residing for some days at the Hotel 
i Mars, in the Rue de Croissant. One day, at noon, Mr. Heine, who — 
‘was an invalid, went out for a stroll to purchase some cigars ata. 
shop in the neighborhood. He did not return, and, despite the en- 
ergetic researches and inquiries immediately instituted by his family — 


aa 35) 


‘JOHN BULL’S NEIGHBOR. | 45 


to ascertain what had become of him, no trace of the missing man 
could be found. Suddenly, after an absence of many days, Mr. Heine 
walked into the room occupied by his almost frantic wife, and had 
a marvelous tale to tell. . When he had purchased his cigars, he en- 
deavored to find his way back to his hotel. Becoming perplexed 
among the labyrinth of streets, and unable tospeak a word ot French, 
he found himself in the Avenue de St. Quen. Worn out by fatigue, 
he tried to get information from some passers-by as to the situation 
of his hotel. The first man whom he addressed vouchsafed no reply. 
His repeated endeavors to find some one who could speak English— 
rather a hopeless task, by the bye, when French ouvriers have to be 
dealt with—ended by making him the center and butt of a group of 
grinning dadauds, who regarded him as a madman, simply because 
he could not speak French. Presently two Gardiens de la Paix came 
along, and noticing a crowd round the unfortunate American, indo- 
lently set themselves to inquire what was the matter. The police- 
men had no more idea of the language Mr. Heine was talking than 
the rest of the crowd; and believing, with ready alacrity that he was 
-@ madman or an imbecile, they arrested him, and carried him to the 
nearest police-station. ‘Thence he was conducted, notwithstanding 
his protests in English, to the Prefecture de Police, when, incredible 
as it may appear, not a single man could be found who could speak 
any language but French. No one thought of procuring an inter- 
preter, and Mr. Heine was not allowed to send a note away to his 
wife. From the Prefecture he was taken to the lunatic asylum at 
Sainte Anne, where he was treated as a madman, until at last his 
name was published in the list of insane persons maintained at pub- 
lic expense, and this led to his release.”’ 
The above reads almost like a romance, but remember it happened 
not a year ago, andin highly-civilized Paris. M. Guyot, who quotes 
this case in extenso in his book, waxes very indignant, proving that 
there is at least one honest and one honorable man in France. And 
he says: ‘‘ Here was an American gentleman, who spoke in a lan- 
guage that was neither Chinese nor Corean—which any one may be 
pardoned for being ignorant of—but English, a tongue widely diffused 
over the whole surface of the globe. Passing through the hands of 
hundreds of people, Mr. Heine could not find any one to understand 


De cot ald adlh iybebsins SUM had we analy dE RARE al AV ule DUO A ARGS Nata viride aa bien Aid gi Ale Gia mi 
Sv ae, Nb at Ay »* r 4 ’ ne oP : : i 4 


him. ‘There are medical men of eminence attached to the Prefecture — 


de Police. These eminent men had no difficulty in coming to the 
conclusion that the man was mad. When he was discovered by his 
friends, instead of hastening to make apologies to a maltreated 
- foreigner, the police authorities refused at first to give him up. In- 
tellectually, the police showed thut they were on an equality with M. 
Camescasse, their chief. 
A powerful London journal,* commenting upon the above case, 
says: . 
*‘ The mora\ of this startling narrative is that nothing can be more 
dangerous than for a foreigner to visit Paris at present, unless he 
can speak French. The gay city upon the Seine, according to an 
interesting article which has just appeared in the new number of 
the ‘ Edinburgh Review,’ on a book called ‘ The Anarchy of Paris,’ 


a Daily Telegraph,” January 16, 1884, 


¥ 


one, whether foreigner or habitual inhabitant, who makes his way — 


46 ss JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR, 


by Maxime du Camp, is far from a safe or agreeable residence to any — 


ix 


late at night through the Champs Elysées, or even along the boule- 
vards. An Englishman, named Grisewood, has good reasons to 
remember the rough treatment he experienced, not long since, at  ~— 
the hands of the Parisian police, because he interfered on behalf of 
an old woman who was being hustled and maltreated by the 
gendarmes. Mr. Grisewood, like many of his compatriots, could 


not speak French; the result being that he was locked up in a cell in 


at their hands.’’ 


company with some of the greatest vagabonds and scoundrels in | 
Paris, and detained tor thirty hours before he was released. So 
arbitrary and high-handed, indeed, are the proceedings habitually 
resorted to at present by the employés of M. Camiescasse, that, 
if we are to believe M. Guyot, it is doubtful whether a fair ac- 
quaintance with the French language would rescue any foreigner 
from their clutches without his experiencing all sorts of indignities 


Of the gardiens de la paix, I do not hesitate to say they are the 


_ most brutal and cowardly police in the civilized world. They are 


never seen alone, but always in pairs. If there is a row or a fight, 
they never show up until it is all over. At night they skulk in 
doorways, and smoke and sleep. Occasionally they outrage women 
and arrest men, only letting them go on the payment of a sum of 


“money. 


Such is Paris—dear, delightful gay, pleasure-loving Paris! ae Ua ae 
As one reads of these things he is disposed to say that with such 
toul blots as these upon her face, it would be well for France to 
draw a veil over herself and assume a modesty and honesty, though 


she had them not, instead of rising up, .with the effrontery and 


¥ 


hypocrisy of a brazen harlot, to cry “‘ shame ’’ against her neighbor’s 
sins, when her own sins are as scarlet wool. 


CHAPTER VIIL ae 


Justice in France, how it is Mocked and Burlesqued—The Marquis de Ray— 
The Charenton Murder—The Sentimentality of French Jurors—A Shame- 
ful Case in Nice—Napoleon’s Mot—‘: The French have no Civie Courage ” 
—The Bad Drainage of Paris—Failure of the Water Supply—Absinthe and 
Eau-de-Vie—The Awful Drunkenness of France—The Suicides. 


\ 

JUSTICE in France, when it is not a burlesque, is generally a 
mockery, while equity would seem to be a thing unknown; at any 
rate, so far as foreigners are concerned. lt would almost seem as if 
this was a natural result of the barbarous police system. Forthere 
can hardly be justice when any number of the horrible mouchards =~ 
can be bought tor a few francs to swear away a person’s life or 
liberty. 1t seems almost beyond credence, and yet it is nevertheless _ 
true that these creatures have been known to enter into a conspiracy = 
to extort money from respectable women by threatening to bring 
charges against them of having committed acts contre les mmurs. 
And scores of women of stainless character have to submit tothis . — 
system of blackmailing. ‘That such a monstrous state of mattersas 
this should exist is not at all surprising when it is remembered that = 


ate 


Pee Jo A ii 


a better class of men was procured, a law being passed that no felon 
should be eligible for service. This law would now seem to have 
fallen into desuetude, and it is certain that a discharged prisoner 


may obtain employment as a mouchard. The idea of being a spy is — 


looked upon with such repugnance by most people, that no man, 
who was not entirely dead to honor, would accept such a post as that 
of mouchard. In addition to the recognized mouchards, every 
concierge in France is a paid agent of the police, and added to them, 


' again, is the large body of gendarmerie, numbering many thousands. 


So what with gendarmes, mouchards, indicateurs, gardiens de la 
paix, and the concierges, one may form some idea how much liberty 
there is in that boasted land of freedom. And, then, when we con- | 
_ sider the venal magistracy, and the low class from which jurors are 
generally drawn, it is not difficult to understand how the purity of 
justice may be coriupted, Ido not mean to assert that there are not 
- honest and upright judges on the bench; but the small fry of mag- 

istrates who generally obtain their posts by nepotism and who are 
generally ill-paid, are corrupt and partial, and one has only to study 
_ French law cases for a little while to know how frequently justice is 
mocked and burlesqued. In proof of this 1 will cite a very recent, 


- case—the tria] of the Marquisde Ray. ‘This old, hypocritical scoun- 


- drel announced that for the honor and glory of God he was going to 
forma French Colony at Port Breton, on one of the South Sea 
Islands. By mixing with his circulars and advertisements any num-— 

ber of pious expressions he succeeded in entrapping thousands of his 

luckless countrymen and women, who subscribed enormous sums of | 
money. ‘These poor people were sent awuy in rotten ships, with 

- scarcely any provisions; and those who survived the horrors of the 

voyage were landed on acannibalisland. Scores of them were killed 

and eaten by the savages: many went raving mad, and others died ~ 
of horrible diseases. Whole families, representing two and three 


generations were swept off; and the few who did survive were utterly 


‘ruined. The Marquis de Ray did all this in the name and to the 
honor and glory of God. ‘The trial of the villain who was the author 
_ of these fearful horrors lasted several days, and resulted in a verdict 
__of five years’ imprisonment, and as the sentence did not carry with 
_ it the penalty of travaux forces the Marquis de Ray will be able to 
do much as he likes as long as he does not break the prison rules; 
_ but even these will always yield to golden keys, and as the delight- | 
ful old gepntieman has, no doubt, feathered his nest pretty well out 


of the millions of francs his dupes subscribed, he will find no diffi- 


- culty in making himselt very comfortable. 
_ Any lawyer, who is an eloquent pleader and a good actor, and 
pari knows: how to make frequent and skillful reference to the ** Bon 


, ee be 


JOHN ‘BULYs 3 NEIGHBOR. | 


o Tih vi ‘may, to a et succeed either i in ean his client off or ve 


having ‘* extenuating circumstances ’’ tacked on to the verdict, which es) 
sometimes means an 1 acquittal, and at all times a mitigation of pun- viet 
-ishment. A fiendish woman, who has poured a bottle of vitriol — 


_ over the face of her faithless lover, has only to fall to weeping be- 
fore the jury, who weep in response and let her off. 
Apropos of this one will reruember the good story of the young 


man who was put upon his trial for having brutally killed his father 


and mother. When asked if he had any extenuating circumstances 


to offer against his being condemned to death, he immediately broke 
into tears and appealed ‘to the jury to pity him as he was a poor 
orphan. ‘This was too much for thesentimental jury, who fell upon 
each other’s necks and wept, and appended a rider to their verdict 
of ‘‘ extenuating circumstances,’’ and the good young man was let 


This morbid sentimentality of the French nature is, as everybody. 


knows, a reality, and frequently causes justice to be burlesqued. A 
- Case in evidence is the trial Jast year of Madame Fenreyon and her 
husband for the so-called Charenton murder. For depravity, for 
cold-bloodedness, and ghastly horror, this murder stands out as one 
of the most diabolical in the annals of crime. 
' Madame Fenreyon, in common with her countrywomen, had a 
lover in addition to her husband. For along time she carried ona 
disgraceful intrigue with the lover until, growing tired of him, she 
resolved to murder him, and, to that end, took her husband and his 
brother into her confidence. A plot was hatched. A lonely house 
at Charenton was hired near the river, and, on an appointed night, 
the unsuspecting lover was invited by his mistress to a café in Paris 
to supper; and from thence they proceeded to Charenton, though, 
before starting, the female fiend went to a church and prayed for 
half-au-hour. This was strong hypocrisy, albeit it was French. 
On entering the lonely house, where her husband and the brother 
were in wailing, and to which whe wretched woman had lured her 
victim, she actually held him while her husband beat his brains out 
with a hammer; and, as he lay upon the floor in the agonies of 
death, the brother stabbed him several times witha knife. The body 


was then stripped, doubled up, bound round with a quantity of leaden ~ 


piping, placed in a wheelbarrow, and trundled to the river close at 
hand, and pitched in, to be fished out some weeks later by chance 
by some boatmen. The crime was traced to the two men and the 
woman. ‘They were put upon their trial, which lasted several days, 

and they engaged the best of counsel to ‘defend them. The whole 
tragedy was unraveled in all its hideous details; the men confessed 
their crime in open court, and so did the woman, telling every atom 
of the shameful story. The trial resulted in a verdict of guilty. 

The husband was condemned to death; the woman—owing to the 
feelings of the jury being wrought upon’ through the artfulness of 


counsel—got life imprisonment; and the brother, “‘on account of- 


his youth,’’ poor boy! only got a short term. Counsel, however, 
‘Was not satisfied, and he set to work to find a flaw in the indictment. 


It is never difficult to find flaws in French indictments, if you have — 


money and influence enough. So the necessary fiaw was found; eh 
Hs prisoners were re-tried; the death sentence was reversed; ‘the Liye 


tf K ra senary 


; cms 


ey 
{ 


aS aye JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. - ... 49 
brother was acquitted; but the sentence on the woman was allowed 
to remain undisturbed. bn er 

Now, if this was not a burlesque of justice, then justice was never | 
builesqued in this world, The crime was ghastly even for France; 
and all Paris, used as it is to such things, was a little shocked, and 
everybody expected that both husband and wife would have been 
executed, as they ought to have been. But the result was as I have 
stated. The man has been sent to New Caledonia, where, I believe, 
his wife will be allowed to join him. Ina year or two, when their 
friends have sent them enough money, they will distribute it amongst 
the sentries, a boat will be placed ready for them, and they will 
make their way to Australia, and 1 wish our kinsmen there joy of 
them. ih 

About a year and a half ago, an English gentleman of the highest 
respectability was living at Nice, occupying a villa on the Promen- | 
ade des Anglais. His house was surrounded with a garden that was 
shut off from the road by a railing and an iron gate. One afternoon, 

_as he was walking in his garden enjoying a cigar, some men came 
to the gate and demanded admission. He asked who they were and 
what they wanted. They refused to give him any particulars of 
themselves, and he very properly refused to admit them. Where- 
upon they forced the gate and entered his grounds. With the spirit 
of atrue Brilon, he turned the blackguards out again; but again 
they forced themselves in, and then announcing theinselves agents 
de police, dragged the astonished Englishman off to prison. 

Reader, you don’t happen to know, perhaps, what a loathsome, 

- repulsive black hole the prison of Nice is. If you did you would 

not be surprised that the English gentleman, in spite of protests and 

offers to deposit any amount of money as bail—his numerous friends 
making the same offers—who passed the night there, spoke of that 
night as one that could not have been endured a second time. He 

- ‘was subsequently put upon his trial, and after any amount, of false 

swearing, in which our dear neighbors are adepts, he was fined five 

hundred francs (£20), besides all the costs of the trial. 

If this was not a mockery of justice, then there never was a 
mockery in this world.* 

But here is another piece of evidence as to how justice is bur- 
lesqued in I'rance. A woman named Amelie Sangle had married a 
young wood-turner last June, but had since separated from him. 
She afterward met one of her husband’s companions, named Deli- . 
non, and asked him the former’s address, as she wished to return to 
him. Delinon refused to give it, whereupon Madame Sangle bought 
a bottle of vitriol, and again urged him to acquaint her where she 
could find her husband. On his still refusing, she threw the con- 
tents of the bottle over him, covering his face with vitriol, and dis- 
figuring his features in a horrible manner, causing him to lose both 
sight and hearing. At the trial, the woman avowed that she adored 
her husband, and being jealous of Delinon’s influence over him, 


* The case here alluded to was fully reported in the English Journal pub- 
lished at Nice, the ‘‘ Anglo-American,” edited by Mr. Lemercier. It was also 
mentioned by many English papers, including, I believe, the ‘*World.”’ It caused 
a great scandal in Nice, and many good families left through it; while every 
one pronounced it disgraceful even for France, , 


Pe this chapter, | beg to refer them to M. Guyot’s book, ‘‘ Lu Police.”’ | 


 tonishing fearlessness, thereby proving the exception to ‘Napoleon 


and when a murder is committed in the World’s Metropolis “the 


daily. It is-facetiously called the ** Murderer’s Chronicle.” It makes 


i “pinteers the other day, and referring to the gigantic size and marvel- 


oe outer ring as well, or that vast province of houses known as ae 


ve meee ag se did 3 in afit of “ungoverna ble | ’ 
a the brutal character of the crime, the jury acquitted the prisor | 
Should any one think that I have been guilty of exaggeration ns Me 


_. This pentleman is a credit and honor to his country, and, with as-_ 


‘the First’s mot: ‘‘The French have no ciric courage,”’+ he has 
dragged the mask from the French police system, and proved Lt 19 ee 
be as relentless, as cruel, as barbarous and unjust as that of Russia. 
Our good neighbors are never tired of denouncing the crimes and 
government of London, 1t seems to give them an especial delight; 


French Press shrieks itself into hysterics, and the ‘‘ innate and 
ferocious brutality ’’ of the English is harped upon until the string 
‘is threadbare. But we in England do not hear of French murders _ 
unless they happen to be unusually atrocious, such as the Tropp- | 
man and Charenton cases. This is no doubt due to the fact that 
_ the French Press generally does not publish police and murder cases 
as our own Press does. There is no daily ** Police Column ’’ ina 
_ French paper. But there happens to be published in Paris a sheet 
called ‘* Le Petit Journal.’’ Few Englishmen, probably, unless liy- 
ing in Paris, have ever heard of it. It has been in existence twenty- 
two years, its price is one sou, and it is said to circulate 600,000 


‘a specialty of reporting crime, and its columns daily team with the 
most revolting and ghastly details ot murder, vitriol-throwing, and 
certain other crimes which must be nameless here, but in which the 
_ French are, par excellence, adepts. These sort ot crimes are politely 
‘called in France Contre les Mawurs. Verb. Sap. 
. Since our good friends cannot manage their own poor little gim- 
~ erack city, with only 2, 000,000 inhabitants, what would they do 
‘with London? J give here the Registrar- General’s report on the last — 
-census. He points out that the ‘population of London has almost 
exactly doubled itself in the course of forty-one years, whereas the 
population of the rest of England has taken fifty-seven years to ; 
Multiply in an equal degree. At the beginning of the present cent- 
“ury, out of every nine inhabitants of England and Wales one only 
lived in London. Now the proportion has risen to one-out of seven. = 
In the outer ring of suburbs and environs not included within the = 
limits of inner London, yet only separated from it by an arbitrary = 
line, the growth has been still more rapid—its population having in- 
-ereased 50 1-2 in the last decennial period, and even a fraction more 
than that in the preceding one. 
_ Again, Sir Joseph Bazalygette said, at the Institution of Civil En- 


-ous growth of London, that the British Metropolis has the area of a 
small German State, and a population equal to that of Holland, 
greater than that of Scotland, double that of Denmark. Taking the 


A * This case was tried in Paris, January 25, present year. 


‘ + In the instructions to his Ministers at the time of the Waletora 
is bate Th Liers: * * Consulate and ean Book By 


ae 
ers 


pte ‘a - JoRN “nuns NEIGHBOR. deny 81 


a Grektee Tegont We have) a population not much loss en that 


- of Ireland or Bel cium, which is being increased every year by large 


numbers of human beings trom other cities, foreign and English. 
This eminent engineer further said that the healthiness of the Me-. 


_ tropolis was increasing and its death-rate falling, This is very sig- - 


nificant; and it is an undeniable fact, as borne out by statistics, that 
the English capital far surpasses Paris in every respect—as a resort 
of fashion, as a center of commerce, politics and fame. Even out- 
wardly, Paris is dwarfed by London in splendor as in size, Paris is . 
poor and flimsy as compared with our capital, and the glorious © 
dream of the late Lord Beaconsfield to make London the center 
point, the very heart of Europe, is fully realized. 

Now let us look at Paris. Its veneering of gilt is so thin that you 
have only to scratch it to get at the rottenness beneath. Of all the 
great capitals of Europe it is one of the worst drained, and it isa 
notorious fact that two or three weeks of hot weather is suflicient to 
raise the death-rate to an appalling height. The mean average death- 
rate under any circumstances is always higher than London, Itis 
true that beneath Paris is an elaborate system of drainage-works, 
through which a small car is run with curious sight-seers, but the 
system is confessedly defective. Then again, nothing could be 
worse than the water-supply. The water itself 1s bad and the supply 
deficient. After three weeks of hot weather in the summer of 1880 
the supply almost entirely failed. The whole population was put — 
on half measure, the streets were left unwatered and the drains | 
were unflushed. As a natural consequence, the atmosphere was un- 
bearable, the mortality was frightful, and everybody who could, 
fled from the pestilential city. At the present day crime in Paris is 
also higher than in London, when the total population is considered. 
Outrages even on the Boulevards are very frequent; while it is ab- 
solutely dangerous to pass along the Champs Elysées, or, in fact, 
any quiet and secluded place after a certain time. Fora long time, 
up toa few weeks ago, the Bois de Boulogne was infested by a gang 
of roughs, who robbed and murdered every one they could Jay 
hands on. §o frequent were these crimes that a little army of gen- 
darmes were one night marched to the Bois, round which they drew 
a cordon, and succeeded in capturing about twelve desperadoes, 
But notwithstanding this, the Bois is so unsafe, that it is now nightly 


-patroled by a large body of gendarmes, 


Tn the low quarters of Paris crimes of the most frightful nature 
are committed daily. The amount of drunkenness is awful; so bad 
has it become, that alaw was recently passed making it a punishable 
offense, in the hope that it might operate as a check, though statis- 
tics prove that as yet it has not done so. Absinthe and eau-de-ole 


are the-common drinks. The former is the most villainous stuff 


that can be drunk. It maddens and kills quickly by bringing on 


softening of the brain, and it also produces a form of madness called 


in French folie paralytique. * This complaint is peculiar to drunk- 


ards, and increases at a fearful rate.+ The eau-de-vie is made from 


* “ Annuaire de sce nme Politique es de la. Rtatistique,” Paris: Guil 
laume et Cie. 1878, 


PALO SEO TL PODER CTP CUEINT RY RMS HERE aE Re 
ee ihe: he F a ‘ %) x ¢ ‘i an re a Yh ; Sa Ah oh Swe’: i 2 ‘ 
59 Cv CORN BULIAS* NEIGHBORS O50) oi Koo te 


‘the commonest of methylated spirits. lt is a fiery, ‘maddening spirit, ‘ 
and is sold at from forty to eighty centimes the liter (a little more than _ 


a pint), Our London gin is a mild and pleasant drink compared 


with this ewu-de-vie. Go into the poor quarters of Paris; peep into 
alow café, a buvette, a cabaret, a guingette, an estaminet, a bras- 
serie—look at the awful bloated faces, sodden and distorted out of 
all semblance to God’s image by absinthe and eau-de-cte ; look at 
‘the half-naked women and the young children soaking themselves — 
with these cursed drinks—if you are a brutal Saxon, you will shud- 
der and come away with an aching heart, and thank your God that 
London, with all its appalling horrors, is not so bad as Paris. 
At the present time, when France has so much to say about our 
own crime, she is pouring into New Caledonia 5,000 criminals a 
year. In Paris the jails are overcrowded, and the madhouses teem 
with the victims of drink. Then as to the suicides—another favor- 
ite theme for our eighbors to taunt us with. The suicides in Paris 
are double in number those of London on the population. The re- 
turns for 1883 give these figures. The total number was 642, or 63 
“increase on the preceding year; 217 was by firearms, 148 by drown- 
ing, 81 by hanging, 37 by charcoal in a closed 100m, while the re- 
_Maining 59 are classed as jumping from heights, by poison, or by 
placing themselves in front of street wagons or railway trains. - Since 
1827, throughout France the suicides have shown a steady annual 
increase. In that year they were five per 10,000 inhabitants; while 
in 1880 they have risen to seventeen per 10,000.* 

As regards the pauperism in Paris, I have already shown, by M. 
Haussonville’s figures, thal itis much higher than in London, and 
that during the last thirty years it has remained stationary in Paris 
and decreased six per cent. in the British metropolis. 


CHAPTER IX. 


A French Bedroom, Salle 4 Manger, Cuisine—Home Life—The Lady and her 
Daughters—A French Idea of Pleasure—Late Hours—Chicory—Coffee— 
French Wine: How it is Adulterated—The French Habit of Spitting into a 
Tumbler at the Dinner Table—French Politeness: Where iis it? In a 
Frenchman’s Hat! 


_. We have been accused in ‘‘ La Rue a Londres ”’ of not knowing | 

~what comfort is. Wecan, of course, well afford to laugh at the ac- 
cusation. But Jet us see what French home-life is like, and how 
much comfort there is in it—remarking, en passant, that in the 
French language there is no equivalent for our word “‘ home,’’ the 
nearest approaching to it being en famiile. 

We will begin with « bedroom of a typical, fairly well-to-do class. 
The bedstead is a narrow, massive wooden arrangement, with wooden 
sides, against which a stranger is apt to break his shins every time 
he gets in and out. A massive spring mattress, dome-shaped; on 


the top of this is placed a matelas of wool or horsehair. This ac- 


_ commodating itsalf to the dome-shaped mattress, the occupant of the 
bed is compelled to lie on the top of an arréte, as it were. The bolster 


“— 


% e 
Bok Bae 


‘JOHN 


matter what position he lies in, always has a kink in his body. In 
the daytime this bed is all covered with a fancy, and often costly | 
coverlet. But when the femme de chambre goes up to prepare the 
bed for the night, she removes this coverlet and carefully folds it up; 
and the bed-clothing then consists of a small, miserably poor coun- 
terpane and a square bag stuffed with feathers or down. Now, it is 
amoral certainty that this bag will not keep on all night, as it is 
sure to slip off with the movements of the sleeper. The consequence 
is, in cold weather one is constantly waking up half-frozen. Then, — 
in addition to this annoyance, he is surrounded by massive curtains, | 
which add to the genera] discomfort. If there happens to be a fire- 
place in the room, it is certain to have a board in front, and the — 
chimney will be stuffed up with rags, for next to his dislike for soap - 
and water, a Frenchman has a horror of fresh air. Before the win- 
dows are heavy curtains, and all the crevices of the sash are bound 
round with list. The floor is bare, with the exception of what is 
called a descente de ht, but which we call a hearthrug. This is 
placed alongside of the bed, There is a cumbersome garde-robve, or 
wardrobe, a chest of drawers with a marble top, on which stand a 
slop-basin and a jug holding half a pint of water; while hanging on — 
a rail at the side ot the drawers is a serviette de toilette of about the 
size of a large pocket-handkerchief. The mirror is hung on the wall, 
and opposite the light, so that the difficulty is to see one’s self. Of 
course there are afew chairs, and possibly a print or two on the 
walls. I have here depicted a good class of bedroom; an inferio 
one is the acme of cold, barren discomfort. 
Descending (or perhaps the rooms are all on one floor) is the salle — 
a manger, we find the same cheerlessness as in the bedroom. How- 
ever cold the weather, it is ten to one against there being a fire, for, 
though a Frenchman does not mind what he spends in gratifying 
his vanity, and decorating himself and family out in fine clothes and 
jewels, he will spend very little on the internal comfort of his dwell-_ 
ing. The floor of the eating-room has no carpet. There is a long 
table with massive legs, and ranged round this are stift-looking, 
straight-backed chairs. The salon, which is always a show-room, is 
repulsive in its flaunted gaudiness, and it is suggestive in every way 
of the show-room of a furniture shop. There are gaudy chairs with 
much gilt; rugs on the floor, what-nots, small tables, a couch or two, 
some plants, a great deal ot bric-d-brac, a crowd of things on the 
mantelpiece; some engravings, not always in good taste, unless the 
owner is rich, when, in lieu of engravings, there will be oil-paint- 
ings. This room is invariably vulgar in its ostentatious display, 
and so stiff, so formal is everything, that one is afraid to move. 
The salon is never used for any other purpose but to receive visitors. 
There is another room, a little less stiff, but equally comfortless, 
where will be found a piano and a few books, and the indispensable 
pack or packs of cards, for no French house is complete without play- 
ing-cards. The atmosphere of this room is always very oppressive with 
stale tobacco-smoke and want of ventilation. But, in point of fact, 
this want is common all over the house, for a Frenchman thinks 
that it is flying in the face of Providence to open windows or doors, 


The hitohen, or ‘oleae is “conspicuous Bes ie ‘had smells, its. great > te tty 

array of copper utensils, and its gas, charcoal, or wood fire, and 

~ dosed stove. In all French kitchens there is the absence of: that aah 

Cleanliness we are accustomed to look for, and everything is untidy eee 

and slovenly. ich ie 
So much for the furnishing. Now for the style of life that is led. eatin FN is 
Ifthe master of the house goes out early to business, he comes 

down into the salle d manger, the table of which is bare of cloth,and 


- the servant brings him a bow] of what is by a pleasant fiction termed — 


coffee. And here I must have a word tosay about the boasted = 
French coffee. hea 
‘It has long been a tradition with us that yon must go to France — 
for good coffee. There never was a greater mistake. As a matter 
of tact, the coffee that one generally gets in France is wretched, and Ath 
_. very frequently not coffee at all, but a mixture of three partsof 
chicory and one part of burned beans; unless it happens to be made 
—as is frequently the case—from a vile composition called “‘ Essence 
of Coffee.’’ The amount of chicory that is consumed in France is — 
_ absolutely enormous, while the proportion of coffee is comparatively 
- small. The very best coffee in the world goes to the English market. Sata 
That which finds its way into France is an inferior quality, with 
some rare exceptions. The difference between us and our neighbors — 
is, that we are not so much a coffee-drinking people, and the majority 
of. English people don’t know how to make coffee properly. On the ed 
other hand, French people have no idea. how to make tea, ny 
Returning to the master of the house and his bow] of coffee and — 3 
milk—café au lait. A hunk of bread is brought to him, and this 
he proceeds to tear up—that is the only way one can describe the  —— 
process. ‘The pieces he dips into the coffee, and, having protected " 
his shirt front—for a Frenchman is very particular about his shirt © 
front—with a napkin as big as one of our ordinary towels, he pro- wit 
ceeds to feed hiniself, eating and drinking with a rapidity that is 
simply amuzing. This ‘ first breakfast ’’ is a very short affair, and, 
being over, the worthy man goes out with a cigarette in his mouth;, 
and the strong probabilities are that he will not turn up again until af 
three or four o’clock in the morning, as he will go toa caté for his - 
déjeuner and dinner, ; 
A little later the lady of the house and her daughters, if there are 
anv, make their appearance, looking very yellow and washed out, for 
itis likely they did not go to bed until long after midnight. Their 
hair is screwed up in papers; they are attired in taded, and as often 
as not ragged, vobes de chambre, and they wear slippers down at the 


_ heels. Being tired and weary, they soak their bread in their coftee 


in silence, or, being in bad tempers, grumble at each other, unless 
they happen ‘to be discussing with zest the immoral play they wit- Ret 
nessed at the theater the preceding evening. When they have © 
finished their coffee, they return to their bedrooms, and wash them- aes 
- selves in the half-pint of water. Then they spend from twoto three 
hours betore the looking-glass, and by the time déjewneris ready 
they: are looking blooming, thanks to the marvelous French “‘ toilet 
requisites.’’ The déjeuner is a formidable affair, but not to be com- as poe 
pared to the dinner. Possibly some visitors have dropped in, and 
ie 9 Pe of voices is aicah French bales enone: neys ashy : Sets 


. Pe ene iit id mish A pits pi os 


i: D8 sone BULL'S NEIGHBOR. CIR Ne} ath 


‘treble voices, and, as they speak f in the highest key and all pene to- 
_ gether, the noise is confusing. Many courses are gone through, and 


an immense quantity of wretched wine is drunk, which in three ha) 


cases out of five is manutactured from dried raisins.* As evidence ' 
of the quantity of wine that is consumed by the people, the returns | 

for last year showed two hectoliters twenty seven liters per head in 
Paris,} that is, about fifty gallons per year each person—man, — 
woman, and child. The breakfast being over, black coffee is handed 

round. The gentlemen smoke cigarettes, and the ladies munch 
bonbons. The afiernoon is got through somehow, visiting 01 shop . 
ping. Visitors are generally entertained hospitably on wretchedly 
weak tea, some biscuits, and bonbons. ‘Then comes the event of the 
day—diner. ‘This is a prodigious meal. If there happens to be | 
company, the ladies appear more blooming than ever. Their com-- 
plexions are fresh and youthful; the hair is artfully arranged to the 
best advantage; and madame or madewoiselle crowds on to her 
fingers, and round her neck, and in her ears, and on her bosom, all 
the jewelry she possesses, and that is generally a great deal, fora — 
French lady worships jewelry first and her God afterward, and she 
will have it somehow or another—gold, if possible, but if not, then 
the best imitation. Two hours or more are spent over the dinner, 3 
and the quantity that is eaten and drunk is almost beyond credence 

by a stranger to French habits. As arule, there is only one knife 


and fork for all the courses, fish, flesh, und fowl. The torkisonly — 


used to hold the meat until it is cut in pieces: then it is laid on one 
side, and everything is lifted up on the knife and put into the mouth. 
When the plate is ‘empty, it is wiped and polished with a piece of 
bread, which is eaten; for a French person likes to see his or her 
plate go away perfectly clean. The dinner being ended, glasses of 
water are brought 1ound. In these the napkin is dipped, and the — 
fingers and lips wiped; then the gentlemen, and frequently the 

ladies, rinse their mouths out and spit the water into the glass on 
the table. This kind ot French etiquette may be seen at any time 
in any café in France, where the class 1am describing frequent. 
After this pleasant littlé operation of mouth-washing, black coffee 
and cognac is passed around. The gentlemen, sometimes the 
ladies, smoke. Then there is a little music, perhaps some singing, 
until it is time to go to the theater, concert, ball, or what not; and 
then really commences the Frenchman’s day. At some time after 
“Inidnight the bourgeois family I have described are supping in a café 
—another prodigious meal. The ladies are at their best. They look 
charming, 4nd they are brimming over with good spirits. They 
laugh immoderately and talk loudly, but they are thoroughly light- 
_ hearted. They are there to enjoy themselves; and they do. At 


** Annuaire de l’Economie Politique,” page 420. 


: An enormous quantity of manufactured wine is sold in France. Both this 

and the common vin ordinaire is frequently adulterated with plaster of Paris, 
which gives it a ‘“‘body’’ and a bright color. This adulteration was carried on 
to such an extent, that a law was recently passed limiting the quantity of 


_ plaster to be used. 


Last year there were manufactured in France 1,700,000 hectoliters of wine 


_ being composed of a basis of common wine, with the addition of sugar an 
water; and 2,500,000 hectoliters from dried raisins.—‘‘ Annuaire de l’Econe — 


_ Imie Sy ape page 288, 


6 «sss SOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. — sual 
“three er four o’clovi they go home to thelr cold, cheerlow fetid 


a 
: 


house; and 2b frst breakfast-time apocar, as F hewe sein “ooking ~ yaN 


yelcw, ana weary. and Worn. 


TRe above is a tair representation Ot home-Hfeas we Enc in mG 


France among the mide c’asses [fou descend i thesocial scale, 
the uomes are barren an0 wrescoed. fhe rence ouorier home is 
very much.worse than une same ctass in England. Of comfort, as 
we are pleased to think we understand it, there is absolutely none. 
All is fetid—dirty—squalid. His diet for the most part consists of 
cabbage soup, common bread, a great deal ot garlic, with sausages 
now and again, and pork whenever he can afford it. When he has 
finished his dinner, he puts on his blouse and goes to a café, where . 
he smokes a great deal of villainous tobacco, plays cards or dominoes, 
and saturates himself with absinthe. 

If we ascend in the social scale to the first-class families, we find 
magnificence, ostentation, lavishness, but no comfort—absolutely 
none. The one great aim of a Frenchman’s life, if he have money, 

is to let the world know that he has gotit. He is always at the 
greatest pains to impress you with a sense of his importance. He 
flaunts his wealth in your face in every conceivable way. He patron- 
- izes you and sits upon you; and, so powerful is his vanity, that if. 
_ you are a stranger he will take you over his honse, or rather so much 
of it as is on show, and point out everything with the delight of a 


child displaying its new clothes. He will tell you with keen joy 


how many thousands of francs he paid for his wife’s diamonds, and 
what his pictures cost, and how much his horses and carriages stood 
himin. If he invites you to dinner, you will be overawed by the 
glittering display of plate; but the cold formality and want of cheeri- 
ness will make you very uncomfortable. A French dinneris always 
a long and very noisy aftair; and it justifies the caustic remark, that 
** A Frenchman feeds, he doesn’t dine.’’ 

There is one other subject with which I must deal in this chapter, 
namely, ‘* French politeness.”’ 

A literary friend of mine wittily remarked, ‘‘ A Frenchman’s 
politeness consisted of taking off his hat and putting it on again.’’ 
That expresses an absolute truth, for French politeness goes ne — 
deeper. Go and stand at a busy corner where ’busses'and tramcars 
- start from, and watch Frenchmen rudely elbow women and children , 

away in order that they themselves may secure the best seats. If it 
is a wet day and Monsieur is asked if he will accommodate a lady, 
watch him how he will scowl at the conductor and refuse to budge © 
an inch. Go to arailway station on a iéte day, and watch F'rench- 
men behaving more like animals than men, and you will come away _ 
with a different idea about French politeness. Would a polite peo-. 
ple have treated King Alphonso as he was treated in Paris the other 
day? Would a polite people have acted with such coarse rudeness 
- to the Marquis Tseng as the French have done? Would a polite 
people have treated our own courteous and chivalric Captain Jobns- 
- ton as the boorish Admiral Pierre did? Do you find politeness in 
the post-office when you go for stamps or to transact other business, 
and some dirty, garlic-smelling clerk pufts his cigarette smoke toward 
you, and keeps you waiting while he finishes the conversation he 


was engaged in with another garlic-smelling clerk as you entered? — pean 


.7 : 


er ee NR es aS Ne ns Tide AL CAERPHILLY PALES Aol g SPROUT ON dca SL RP EN 
' 4 4 guy 2 ' yA " fais te t 
: *S bs a " t 


ew 


aOR BUTTS Niccdm uy 
Bask WEL ea ata’ Pow iy hy ie fy, pide pei 

Vo you ‘ind i nmorgst the olliciais of railways? Dé you find it 22 
_ __ board the steamboats, in the theaters, in the tramcars? Uf not in any 

, of these piaces, then where is it? 1t is, as my literary friend ex- 
~ peat it, a Vrenchman’s hat, ‘There, and there only, is it ip be 
ound. | . 


CHAPTER X. 


nch Soijiers—Officers : their Ignoran ity— ‘their T 
sreiolesomeness and Dirt—The Vorale of the Army-The Duke of Welly 
pilibaus Goldiers-The Diserace of Sedan, at War—The French scared 

SomE years ago I was dining with a party of German 
the Mansion Rouge, in Strasbourg. frist nonocrinaee poaaba 
took its tone from recent exciting events, and an officer in a cavalry 
regiment thas haG cOnspicucusl¥ Goucedloped mself exclaimed, in 
answer to a temarik that had been maaes lie han 

“Ah! if Frenchmen had only stopped at home, and armed their 
women instead, and sent them against us, we should never have got 
into Paris.’’ 

This was the German’s way of expressing his admiration for 
French women and contempt for the French soldiers. 5 

l was purticularly reminded of that remark recently on reading 
some articles in ‘‘ Le Temps’’ on the British army, in which the 
British soldier is held up to contempt, and the British officer is 
ridiculed as a nincompoop without brains, without military knowl-. 
edge, and no skill. These articles, of course, are written by hack 
writers, to pander to the Anglophobic tastes now raging. Their 
bad taste and untruthfulness one can excuse. History proves that 
the English soldier has always been a match, and more than a 
match, tor the Frenchman, therefore we need not trouble ourselves 
much about the opinions of ‘‘ Le Temps.’’ But, naturally, one’s 
attention is directed to the French Army, to see in what way it is so 
superior to our own, save in point of numbers. German contempt 
for the French army is well known, while in all ages the French 
soldier has been conspicuous for his unsparing brutality in war time. 
This, perhaps, is not to be wondered at, when it is remembered | 
from what class the rank and file are drawn. 

_- Napoleon I. said, ‘‘ The worse the man, the better the soldier; if 
soldiers be not corrupt, they must be made so.’’* This exactly ex- 
presses the ruling principle of the Freuch army. 

1 find that in 1881 about 13 1-2 per cent. of the French army could 
not read or write; 2 1-2 could read only; while 57 1-2 per cent. had 
the rudimentary elements of instruction.+ 

The average French soldier is conspicuous for two things: his 
slovenliness and his dress, which outrages every taste. If my ex- 
perience goes for anything, 1 should say he is the worst-dressed 
soldier in Europe. He is wretchedly paid.t He is badly fed and 


* Thiers, ‘* Consulate and Empire,” Book 36. 
t “*Statisque Militaire: Annuaire de ’Hconom'« ~. litique,” page 96, 
+ The pay for a common soldier is one sou a. 


\ bed hee 


- 


ee RRO Snr a ee 


Was sickened and disgusted with the dirt and fetid atmosphere. 


‘badly Houeeas Ale Hood: is” coarse and ‘meager in the pipe times 
of peace. In war time it is indescribable. As for comfort in his” 
barracks, it is utterly unknown; and the same may be said for 
cleanliness. I visited a barracks in Paris not long ago, and ‘two 
others in the south of France still more recently; and in each case 1 


My French friends will accuse me, possibly, of having been over-— 


ire 


et 


sensitive; but with some knowledge of barrack life in different coun- 


tries, lam disposed to say that the French barrack is by far the worst. 
In fact, the ordinary French soldier is looked upon by his 
_ superior as an animal and nothing more; with this difference, that, 
whereas an animal would. be taken care of, and its comfort would 
be attended to, the soldier is utterly neglected in that respect. He | 
is a fighting machine, and as such his soul must be ground out of | 
- him; and he must be brutalized as much as possible, in order that 
he may become indifferent and pitiless. And when that dangerous 
- eondition has been tully developed, he is kept in rigid subjection 
by the chains of a tyrannical discipline, until the time comes to let © 
him loose like a blood-thirsty animal. If space permitted, pages 
and pages might be filled with well-authenticated acts of brutality, 
recently, that are disgraceful to any nation calling itself civilized. 


aol hae 


_ Tunis, Madagascar, Tonkin, call up scenes that make one shudder, — 
Supposing that British troops had been guilty of anything like the | 


Hue massacre, as described by the China correspondent of the Paris 


‘* Figaro,”? would not all France have uttered one great cry of con- i 


demnation? Butlet us go back to the Franco-Prussian war, when we 


find the French soldier in all his barbaric fierceness. During that 


time he was guilty of excesses that almost rank with the worst periods 
of his history; and the peasantry, inflamed by his savageness, joined | 


him in his defiance of all laws ot humanity. An exalted lady* saw _ 


a good deal of the French soldier and his offiver during that dread- — 


ful time, and in one of her letters to her Queen-Mother she says: 
** A hundred French officers und two generals have broken their 


parole, and have escaped from their captivity. I doubt it a single — 
one in the German army would have done anything like that. The 


French peasants—sometimes women—murder our soldiers in their 
beds, and they have often, and in many ways, fearfully ill-treated _ 
our wounded. a 

When barbarians fight, one does not expect to hear that they have 


shown mercy or given quarter; but it is otherwise with so-called — * 


civilized troops. And yet, even in most recent times, the French 


troops in dealing with uncivilized people, have proved themselves 
to be not a whit better than the armies of the first Napoleon. That 
excesses are to be looked for in times of war, no matter of what 
nationality the soldiers may be, is alas! too truly the. case. But <y 


when it comes to killing the wounded, and showing no quarter to 


~ those who lay down their arms, one is aghast with horror, and his _ e 
indignation cannot find words strong enough wherewith to eXpress 


itself, But if we look at the French soldier and his surroundings as _ 


we find him to-day, there is no longer any room to wonder why. a a, bee 


_ * The late Princess Alice. 


? 


, whould. Geis so plood- thirsty when the discipline and restraint are 


for the moment telaxed. 


Between the French officer and the soldier there is little accord and 


less sympathy. The officer is vain, arrogant, and despotic; and he 
seems to take an exquisite delight in making his power felt; and the 
lower his grade the worse he is. Watch a squad of recruits drilling 
in any part of France, and witness the brutishness of the drill-ser- 
geants, and you will no longer wonder why the men’s worst passions 
are developed. The morale of the French army was always noto- 
riously bad, and I do not think there are any signs of improvement, 
lt you stand and watch a French regiment file past you in any town 


‘in France, you will be struck with many things—amongst them, the: 


‘slip-shod slovenliness, the want of smartaess, the ill-fitting clothes, 


and the large percentage of brutal, coarse faces. Ou this very sub-  ~ 


ject hear what the Marseilles correspondent of the leading German- 


Swiss newspaper has got to say: 
* Only a few weeks ago, as we were in the harbor of Marseilles, we 


saw the shipping of a troop of tecruits. If the company had been 


‘intended for Caledonia it could not have looked more repulsive. In 


ragged clothing stood fellows of true gallows faces; men who, being 
outcasts from all decent society, and incapable of any honest, labor, 


“had enlisted.’’* 


As one reads the above, it is not difficult to understand how a 
massacre like that of Hue should be possible. It is true there were 
many sailors from the ships amongst the men who barbarously, and 
in cold blood, shot down the wretched Tonkinese as they fled from 
the city; but that only seems to me to make the matter worse, 


I do not wish it to be supposed for a moment that 1 am under- 


rating the many gallant deeds that are to be placed to the record of 
the French soldiers and sailors. But 1 maintain that the material 
fiom which the French army is composed is the worst in the world, 
taken all round; and it really seems as if Napoleon’s maxim, ‘‘ If 
soldiers be not corrupt, they must be made so,’’ was closely fol- 
lowed at the present day. If we come now to look at the officers, 
we find that, as a bodv, they will not compare with English, German, 


‘or Russian officers. "Their want of chivalry and politeness is as con- 
“spicuous by its absence now as it was at the time of Louis XVII. 


When our own Duke of Wellington was Embassador at. Paris, 


during the levée, the French Marshals had the rudeness to turn their 
backs 1 upon their old antagonist and retire. For this unpardonable 
breach of etiquette the king apologized to the duke, who replied— 

**Don’t distress. yourself, sire; it is not the first time they have 
turned their backs upon me.’ 

' This was terribly stinging, but it was deserved. It was the duke 
also who said, ‘‘ When war is concluded, all animosity should be 
forgotten.’’ Now this is exactly what a French officer never does. 


Psy 


_ His animosity is bitter and relentless, and he never seems capable of — 
__ being able to appreciate either the valor or generosity of his enemy. 
This is a charge that their enemies have always brought against 


_ them; and the history of the Franco-Prussian war teems with evi- 
~ dence in support of it. It is a pity, for the sake of France herself, 


* “Der Bund,” January 18, 1894, 


Me VST SEY 
Ba Me TORRE REE, 


Hest re Hie - JonN BULT’s NEIGHBOR, tas » BY 


ty 


JOHN BULL'S: | NETEBOR, i 


‘that thers should be this feeling: but any one aap knows what te 


French pride is, and how unforgiving it is when wounded, will 
easily comprehend how this arises. 


There is, perhaps, another reason that may in some measure ac- | a is 
count for the bad morale of the French army. The low-grade offi- ay 


cers are wretchedly paid, and are generally half-educated men of no 


social standing. What is the result? That which ever follows 


ignorant men being placed in power—tyranny. I don’t think the 
strongest partisan of France and her army would deny that there is 


an amount of petty tyranny of this nature exercised by the young » 


officers of low grades that it would be impossible to find in any other 


European army. Where this goes on, the effect must necessarily be — ie 


demoralizing. Men who are tyrannized over lose respect for their 


superiors; and, when soldiers are concerned, it produces a want of — 


esprit de corps, and there is friction. Now, any one who has the 
slightest knowledge of the French army of the present day will 
know that this is exactly the case, and in small garrison towns it is 
particularly conspicuous. Whatever Napoleon’s view might have 
been as to the corrupting of soldiers who were not already corrupt, 
past experience proves that the higher the moral standard of the 
soldier the more amenable is he to discipline. Men even of the low- 
est type are very apt to be influenced by those with whom they 
come in contact; and refinement has a tendency to beget refinement. 
But the officers with whom I am dealing are quite lacking in this 
quality, as the wretched pay offers no inducement for a man to en- 
roll himself under the colors if hecan get anything better. Perhaps 
it may be true that every soldier in France carries 4 marshal’s baton 
in his pocket, but it is equally true that not one in a thousand ever 
comes to wield the baton. As the army of France is at present con- 


stituted, it is not likely that young men of good families will be at- — | 


tracted to it; and there is no disputing the argument that without 
good officers you cannot have good men. If one looks tor proof of 
the weak caliber of the average French officer, he need go no turther 


back than 1870. It is useless to mention Tunis, Madagascar, and — 


Tonkin. The enemy in each of these cases has been no match for 
the power of France, but the world generally admits that these ex- 
peditions have, so far, only served to tarnish her former glory. In 
the year reterred to, France had to compete with a very different 
foe, in every way worthy of her steel. France poured forth her 
countless legions toward the Rhine; but they were incohesive masses; 

many of the officers appeared to be ignorant of even the rudimentary 
elements of military science. ‘Their ‘‘ Intelligence Department ’’ 
was a farce; and the knowledge ot the country through which they 
were traveling was practically ni. They had not the remotest idea 
of the position or numbers of the various sections of the German 
army; and 1 happen to know for a fact that in the Duchy of Baden, 
when the war broke out, there were so few soldiers, that dummies 
were dressed up and placed in rows to lead the French to believe 
there was a large force. Yet so supine, so badly informed were 
_ these Jegions of France that, though they might have occupied the 


whole Duchy and thus have secured a foothold in the country they Pa 
had gone forth to conquer, they were scared away by afew bogus 
helmets stuck on sticks, The French army Mia in point Of fack Bos 


Sei i : : 2 P : 


JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR. | a. 
badly- cftceeed rabble, with—except i in certain cases—not the slight- 
est esprit de corps. Had it been otherwise, what a different tale 


“. avy Seta 
tes 
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5 : 
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if 
‘ 
Te 
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ey 


might have been told! for Germany was not ready—her army had = 


to be mobilized, her frontier towns were unprotected, and many of her 
fortresses were so weakly garrisoned that they must have succumbed 
to a vigorous onslaught. But if the French officers had been tyros 


in the art of war—and many of them were so—they could not have | 


acted more foolishly. _frossard was airing his vanity before Saar- 
_ bruck; the town was his for the taking, but he did move until too 
late. He struck at last, and planted the tri-color where the Black 
Eagle had floated. But then came Spicheren—that bloody prelude 
to a stupendous and ghastly drama. I have heard Germans who 
were present on that dreadful day say that Spicheren was lost to the 
’ French owing to the incompetency of its officers. In all the subse- 
quent struggles in the smiling provinces of Alsace and Lortaine the 
same incompetency was shown. Matched with a mighty foe, France 
displayed to the onlooking world the pitiable weakness of her army. 
And so long as French officers continue what they are, so long will 
the army cease to rise above the level of a military rabble: and 


should our neighbors unhappily become involved in another great 


European struggle at no distant date, 1t does not need a prophet to 
predict that the great, unwieldly military machine would go to 
pieces as it did nearly fourteen years ago. Sedan was a disgrace, 
Metz was even a greater one. Said Marshal Soult at Waterloo, in 
speaking of the English, ‘‘ They will die on the ground on- which 
they stand before they lose it.’? Does France think—does France 
dare tosay that if at Sedan and Metz they had been English instead of 
French soldiers, that those disgraceful surrenders would have taken 


place? Proudly and emphatically 1 exclaim Never! History and 


every nation except France echoes the word—’‘ Never!’’ 


‘Thursday, September 1, 1870, saw France crushed by an inferior — 


number of troops; and 86, 000 French soldiers and officers, besides 
14,000 wounded, with 550 guns and 10,000 horses, surrendered to 
the valiant foe. On that day the glory of the French arms was 
dimmed, and the dimness has never passed away. A few weeks 
later, Bazaine threw up the sponge, with 3 marshals, 66 generals, 
6,000 officers, and 173,000 men of all arms. 

Oh, France! France! With such burning pages of disgrace as 
these in your history, why do you not hide your diminished head, 


and weep? But you will not do this. Your vanity is far too power- — 
ful to permit you to be humble, just, or generous. Your people are 


small in stature, and your average intelligence is far below that of 
your neighbors on the Rhine; but your consummate vanity has no 
Peres amongst any people on the face of the globe, 


me Bn . e wit if i vA > e's 
| JOHN BULL'S NEIGHBOR 


‘The French Press: its Venality—‘‘ Le Temps” and London “ Telegraph” con- — 


‘CHAPTER X1. eek Bo 


trasted—’* Des Debats ’’—** Le Figaro ’’—** Le a nia ”—Press Laws—Fear ae! 


of Actions for Libel—Want of Freedom. 


NeExt to the venality of officialism, the French Pree stands out as ; " 


the most venal of French institutions. The one leading idea of a 
French newspaper seems to be to abuse some other paper. There is 
not an official clique, not a religious sect, not a group of tradesmen, 
not a body of wire-pullers, not a political rabble, but what has its 


representative organ. In most countries this would be looked upon i i 


as an advantage, but in France it is otherwise. The vanity of, and 
want of generosity in, the people will not allow them to look with 
complacency and 200d- will on any rival. Inthe Press, this shows 
itself in such a venomous manner that foreigners are amazed. 
‘Then, again, newspaper honesty is almost unknown. I say almost, 
because there have been some notable exceptions. But how can 
honesty be expected from a Press that is hampered with such utterly 
absurd libel laws? As the nation itself has no freedom, but is over-' 


run and kept in subjection by a barbarous system of espionage, so 


the Press is fettered and deprived of all liberty. If aman commits 


a robbery, or a woman commits adultery, and they figure in the iy 


criminal reports, it is certain, in mentioning them, that no paper will — 
have the courage todo more than to reter to ts ‘ her by the initial — 
letter of the name. Thus—‘' Le homme A.”’ or ‘‘ La femme B.’’ 


The reason of this is, that the editor of the me is afraid that the — 


thief or the adultress may bring an action against him. Then, as to 
the personal abuse | have alluded to, one has only to note the num- 


ber of challenges that pass and the number of *‘ meetings ’’ that take — 


place between French press-writers in the course of a year. 
Monsieur le Rédacteur en chef of ‘‘ L’\diot,’’ having in his paper 

called Monsieur le Rédacteur en chef of ‘‘ Le Diable’’ a godless per- 

gon, the latter gentleman sends a challenge to his calumniator. 


There is a good deal of—as our American cousins say—‘‘ tall-talk;” — 


- and these valiant fire-eaters sally forth, spluttering and fuming, to 


avenge their sullied honor. They meet, scowl like fiends at each © 


mh 


Hee then fall to like two dancing-masters. One of them is : 


scratched, or perhaps both. Their wounded honor is made whole. 
They weep over each other, and, adjourning to a café, swear ny 
ing friendship in deep draughts of absinthe. 


There are some clever writers on the French papers, but they are ie ni 
outnumbered by inferior ones by twenvy to one. In our own coun- hen 


_try, before a man can take a a recognized position as a journalist, he 
must have served an apprenticeship and given some indications of © 
ability for his work. Not so in France. The most incompetent 
numskull there, if he can only scrape together a few francs, starts a 
sheet, and calls himselt a journalist. And here again the ‘national — 
vanity displays itself strongly; tor there is a certain class of French- 


men who would infinitely rather starve and be called shay task 


rs. ‘The cravi 
" ost 


Pp 
: in rance if he has a thousand francs or so to lay out, so any one 


though a French Professeur may signify something, it very ye cpa 
signifies nothing but impudence and audacity. - 


aoe hag Aa them, the wonder is how they can possibly manage — 
to exist 

ity eke out a wretched existence, for a paper can be produced very — 
» cheaply indeed in the French style. Wretchedly printed on bad 


- and Monsieur le Rédacteur struts about supremely happy, because, © 
Ke ie eres first,-his vanity is gratified, and, secondly, he can abuse sumebody, 

ST and so get himself talked about. Anything like. enterprise, with — 
-) ae Ly OV canal notable exceptions, is a thing unknown amongst French news- 
a Me ap papers. There is hardly a paper that has a ‘' private wire,’ and 
NS ane very few go in for private telegrams. lf anything exciting is going © 
iG Sat on in the world, Paris newspapers are dependent upon London for. 


Daily News,’’ for instance, have cost. more than the whole pro- — 
“Siuotion of “Le Temps ”’ for the day, and which, as every one 


at the head of the list. As *‘ Le Temps ”’ is pretty generally known 
e by name to English people, and is a puper that Paris people are very 
As _ proud of, 1 will take a copy of that journal for the 15th of January 
ie graph ’’ for same date. The paper on which *‘ Le Temps ’’ is print- 
ut fae a is three inches longer than the ‘‘ Daily Telegraph,” but half an 
a a3 ‘inch narrower, and, swhereas the ‘* Telegraph * consists of eight — 
_ pages, ‘‘ Le Temps ” consists of four. In the issue of the French 
. ie _ journal for the date mentioned, and which 1 have not selected for 
any special reason, 1 find the paper made up as follows:— * 
- Eleven and three-quarter inches in large and heavily-leaded type 


ae day. This is followed by thirteen inches ot ‘* Depeches Telegraph- - 
Akh Pes des correspondents particuliers.’’ These are set in smaller 
i _, type, but considerably ‘‘ spaced out.”’ The longest of these tele- 


ee , January 18; and the greater portion of itis a transcrip 
NE "paragraph that appeared in the “‘ Gazette Russe de Saint Peters- 
~ bourgh. * Vhe next longest telegram is from Madrid, and no~ 
ni ‘Spanish | paper is mentioned. The third longest is from London, 


_ the “‘ Times,’’ said so and so; that the correspondent of the *‘ Times’’ 

~ at Cairo says the environs of Khartoum are already in confusion — 

- (saccagés) ; ‘and that, following the intormation of the ‘ Daily — 

; he e ‘News,’ ’ the evacuation of Khartoum, and destruction of the maga-— 
at Fine cts: In each of these items of news, the cones epee is” 

$ ee on two eenee Ppppate ais the information. Oy mena 


r has and ing for social 
on. am: ong! this Rept Bhan people is so intense that a man a Ky 
will sell his birthright to, be able to call himself a journalist, — a 

_a professor, a doctor, or an author. As any one can be a journalist — 


may become a ‘‘ Protesseur,’’ in fact with even greater race ee : : 
W : 
“When one looks at the thousands of trumpery sheets that are 4 
; | issued under the name ot newspapers in France, and the inanities — oe Ks 


ut, while many ot them die in their infancy, the major- 


Af he _ the first news. 1 have known when two foreign telegrams inthe —~ 


ee _ knows, is one of the leading Paris papers, even if it does not stand i 


ae and it quotes in fourteen lines that Sir Samuel Baker, in a letter to. a : 


Sake paper, with tew or no literary expenses, these flimsy things drag on, ao 


ae of this year, and contrast it with a copy of the London ‘‘ Daily Tele- i. is 


‘ 


ofa ** Bulletin du Jour,’’ which isa summary of the newsofthe — 


; a oes is from St. Petersburg, and is dated two days pr festa ha A Os 
S M, fe} ait a) 


+ 


ets 


‘The dé echee are eatonae ‘by a short column 


Salle Levis, and which 1 refer to on page 19. Then comes a polit 


ical leader of a column in length, and in same type. We next get — 
four and a half inches of telegrams through Havas Agency, and 
- then three long paragraphs of China news through ‘* des telegrammes 


‘a. big | ype 8 and heay- 
ae ily ence: of a leader on a Socialist meeting that took | place at the 


de source Anglaise.” There is a considerable extract trom the _ 


_** Gazette de Voss’’ on the Marquis Tseng. 'Then come threespaced- — 
out, paragraphs on Algeria andthe Congo. Whilethe bottom of that — 


: “page is occupied by the indispensable fewilleton, consisting of six — 
columns, seven and:a quarter inches in length. Turning over,isa 
heavily- spaced. column of ‘* Bulletin de 1 Etranger,”’ followed Dye 


half a column of ‘‘‘Affaires Militaires.”? Then a column of news _ 
of the day, consisting in the main of an extract from ‘‘LeCridu 


Peuple.”’ Then come three columns, big type, leaded, of a report — 


of a workmen’s meeting; and at the bottom of the page six more — 
short columns of the feudlleton. ‘Turning over, there isa long col- 
umn, twenty-four inches, of a political meeting, which is continued 


through half of the next column. We next ‘get a short article on 


public prayers; then a reunion of Bonapartists; the grievance of the 


- coachmen; two other unimportant paragraphs, and two columns of — 
‘** Faits Divers,’’ a mixed medley of little bits of odds and ends, in- 


cluding a report on the weather, a long letter from a correspondent 


on a national school of mines, two advertisements, and a quarter of © 


a column of a law case at Marseilles, copied from the local journals of 


that town; while a quarter ol a column i is occupied by a story about — 


the loss of some shares by a widow ‘The last page is made up ofa | 


list of the theaters; the said’ list being comprised in thirty-seven — 


lines. The rest of the matter is vulgar and staring advertisements; 


a chart of the weather; a column of a report of “the sitting of the Sy 


Chamber; two or three short telegrams by Havas Agency, and the 
- paper is completed. ‘‘ Le Temps’’ is twenty-four years old, and its 
‘price in Paris is three halfpence ahd in the Departments twopence. 


Now, taking the ‘‘ Daily Telegraph’”’ for the same date, we find — 


in the front page eight twenty-three and a quarter inch columns of 
adverlisements., The next page is composed of eight twenty-five 
inch columns of closely-set matter, including.a little more than two 


Columns of a report of the ‘‘ Money Market;’’ three-quarters of a . 
~ column of ‘‘ Special Market Reports,’’ set insmall, solidtype.. Then 


an Auction Summary and some paragraphs complete three columns. 
The following columns include a letter to the editor, reports of ac- 
cidents, nearly two columns of police reports, three-quarters of a 


column of the trial of the men charged with a plot against the Ger- 


man Embassy, .‘‘ Sporting Intelligence,’’ ‘‘ Official Cause List’’ of 


the Supreme Court of Judicature, a very complete *‘ Shipping In 3 : 
telligence ’’ list, dealing with shipping in all parts of the world. 


Then there is a paragraph or two, a reportof a‘* Saleof Blood Stock — : e 
at Tattersall’s,’’ and the page is complete. On page three areeight 


more columns set in solid type. They include nearly a column of 


political speeches; a column and three-quarters of a special article, 
entitled, ‘‘ Our Coral Gallery;” a descriptive article of the new 
theater; a notice of the Strand Theater; .a quarter-column of Popu- 
lar Concerts; the movements of the "Army and Navy; a quarter- — 


# 


sag Tay | 


ey), ee ofa arealel aloe rta [ROE sented ‘dated the Siow day ; 
a Reuter’s telegram from St. Petersburg of previous day also; a par- 
Cit oer telegram from ‘* Our Correspondent at Vienna;’’ a long list 
‘Latest American Prices;’’ telegrams from Paris, the United 
States, the Suez Canal. Then come *‘ Shipping Disasters,”’ a weather 
report, and a paragraph on Portuguese annexation, and we finish 
with the page. Page four is made up of three and a half columns 
of theater advertisements: three and a half sundry advertisements 
and law notices; and the remaining column is a summary and part — 
of a leader. Page tive has four and a halt columns of leader. mat-— 
«ter; while a space across two columns and nearly equal to oneord- _ 
/ inary colimn, is occupied by a map of the Soudan; then thereisa — 
vt. 2 ', Gescription of the ‘f Mahdi’s March; sundry paragraphs; ; and tele-. 
grams from special correspondents at Paris; Cairo, Vienna; and sev- 
_ ~ eral of Reuter’s telegrams from Paris, Hong- Kong, Berlin; and 
three-quarters of a closely- printed column relating to the voyage of 
the *‘ Celtic.’” Page six is entirely advertisements; pages seven and 
eight the same. These advertisements represent ata rough guess a 
money value of about £2,000. That is more than the vost of pro- 
duction of ‘‘ Le Temps” for the whole week. The price of the 
hes Telegraph” is one penny, and its circulation 241,000 a day, while 
_ the circulation of ‘‘ Le Temps”’ is probably 25,000 to 80;000 a day. 
__ In selecting these two journals, 1 have taken what I believe to be 
_ _ fair representative types of English and French journalism. In 
~~ fact, 1 think it will be admitted that “* Le Temps’’ represents the — 


‘ 


Behe hs highest type in France; but in England the ‘* Times’’ must certainly 
fate be placed first;- and for telegraphic news the ‘‘ Telegraph’’ must 
aN Pe yield to the ‘* Daily News.”’ 

ae Pa lf we take the seven leading morning papers published in London 
"> namely, the ‘* Times,’’ the ee Standard, ”’ the ‘‘ Morning Post,’ the 
oa ** Daily News,’’ the *‘ Morning Advertiser, ”’ the ** Daily Telegraph, fe 
a and the * Daily Chronicle *_they contain in their united issues more 


matter than all the Paris journals put together, morning and even- | 
ce ing, and which number some scores; and their united circulation is 

probably greater than the united circulation of all the papers pub- 

Vetus eished at Paris, Lyons, Bordeaux, Macon, Marseilles, Nice, Toulon, 


|. Brest, Havre, Dijon, Amiens. _I have particularly mentioned these 


5 towns because in each a great number of morning journals are 
published. 
"sf we now take the ‘ Journal des Débats,’’ which holds a very 
high place in French estimation, we shall find ‘that it sinks into insig- 
nificance when compared with even our leading provincial papers, 
the ‘*‘ Manchester Guardian,’’ for instance, the ‘* Examiner and 
Times,”’ the ‘‘ Liverpool Courier,’’ the ‘* Nottingham Guardian,” » 
‘the *‘ Leeds Mercury,”’ the ‘* Scotsman,” the ‘‘ Glasgow Herald,”’ 
_. the Dundee ‘‘ Courier-and Argus,’’ and very many. others, if space 
_~—~——sO Would permit to enumerate them. Passing on to the Paris ‘‘ Figaro’? 
_————s also a leading paper—it will not compare favorably with the sec- 
~~. ond rank of English provincial newspapers. 
~~ Ta France,” ‘‘ Le Voltaire,’’ ‘‘ Le Clairon,”’ ‘‘ Le Gaulois” are” 
‘pate quite put into the shade, hoth ag literary and news papers by the — 
__ ** Birmingham Post”’ and the “ Daily Gazette,” the Bradtord *‘ Daily 
ate Telegraph, ‘ oe the ‘ “Western Morning News.” One might go- 


T, as ‘compared with that of sunply 
ety, ee Bee, independence i it has no tival. 


. CHAPTER XIl. 3 
: French Cooking and English Compared—French Soups—Bouillon: How tis 
Si Made—Horseflesh. Oy i 


¥ ag Must now touch upon one other charge that our ood neighbor 
are never tired of preferring against us, They say that We. cann 


a 

A by certain writers in the Englisit press, who, judging from the style — 

in which they write, would seem to have gathered their knowledge 
of France and the French by repeated visits to ‘‘ Boolong.”” I here 
- assert, emphatically, that the charge is a libel, and 1 will prove it 
Ce. have heard French cooking described as ‘* The art and science 
of making messes.’ Nothing ¢ so accurately expresses what French 
_ cooking really consists of as that phrase. 

-, The story will be familiar to every one, of the English commercial 
traveler who, having gone through thirty courses at a table d’ hote, 
Li paid,:*" Waiter, I have tasted all the samples, you can bring me my 
dinner now,.’’ A true French dinner is a dinner of courses and the 
- courses consist of nothing in particular... A French chef prides hi 
_ self on being able to destroy the flavor of one thing by adding th 
“flavor of another. Take salmon, for instance, served up with sau 
Need oanatee, What is the predominant flavor there, if it is not the 
acid and the oil of the sauce? Then, did youever try French mashe 
potatoes? You taste everything there but the potatoes, which are 
of the consistency of porridge. Spinach is dressed in a manner that 
Causes it to resemble thick, viscid green paint; and, owing to the — 
oil that is put in, the,flavor is probably not unlike paint,—at an’ 
rate, it is not like spinach, Snails and slugs will be served to yot i 
‘and you will have to be very Clever indeed to detect what they FO ane 
- in their disguise. ; ) 
Mrs. Fred Burnaby, in her recent book on ‘The High Alps: 

* Winter,” tells how she anda companion were dining at a Frene 
hotel, and enjoying one of the courses very much, although the 

ad not the remotest idea what it was composed of. Suddenly the 
‘companion dropped her knife and fork, and exclaimed, ‘‘I know © 
what this dish is: it is slugs.’”’ And it was. Now, 1 think I could. 
challenge any of my counirywomen to dress a dish of slugs or snails 
‘so that they would defy detection, Yet your French chef willdo 
this. He will take a piece of diseased horse or fusty beet, and make 
a ragott that will cause you tosmack your lips and cry for more, 

He will so dress you a putrid fish that you shall imagine you are 
eating the most delicious plat. He will give you stewed goat so dis- 
guised that he might safely wager his head to yours that you 
Not tell the dish from jugged hare. He will give you tripe, and 
ake you believe that you are eating fish; Sisos i , and yc 
hink you a are eo unmae of some Ser Cs) Spee 


es pe 0 wn with rie “will ine impartial person, for instance, Midersne: 
i Sah Desay that English soups are not ‘superior to the much- vaunted ones — 
of France? Our idea of a soup is, that its basis should be the essence — 
- of “meat. A Frenchman’s idea is, that its basis should be hot water 
pars some fat in it, and the potential! ities of that decoction ina French 
“chef's hands are incredible. There are some exceptions to this: for. 
. example, in boutile-d-baisse, which is at once delicious and deadly in — 
its, digestion- disturbing properties, and the universal Joudlon. But a 
what is bouillon? It is made from the very worst parts of beef—the _ 
scrapings and the cuttings, and what we should call ‘‘ scrag; 7 for oy ee 
- your French chef thinks it is a deadly sin to boil good beef to make 


soup of. If you get bouillon in a restaurant, you may depend upon — 
es it that in its manufacture nothing has been ‘allowed to escape the . 
bit careful and frugal eye of the maitre or maitresse that would be | 
‘ _-. likely to earich the bouillon pot. So in go the pieces from the cus- — ae 
tomers’ plates, and when the butcher brings the joints of meat in or 
iar ‘the morning the skillful cook with his little knife Shaves off all the © 


“ia dirty and pressed parts and pops them into his pot. They all bee ct 
* “and a little dirt is easily skimmed off, But generally, the dowdllon uD 
owes its strength to horse. The horse is a wonderful animal in the his 
- Frenchman’ s hands, When living he gets every atom of work out 
- of him it is possible to get by means of a liberal application of the _ 
whip: and when he is ” dead, be stews him and eats him. Most S 
Oe Tacit visitors to Paris will know that there are special horse-flesh — 
butchers; and in some parts of the town are markets for the sale Hee 
“fe horse- flesh. Is it to be wondered’ at, therefore, that the poor people 
ae sl can buy bouillon at from ten to forty centimes the liter? Nor are 
rf nN wy there many restaurants in Paris where the doudiion is not made from _ 
a wee ~ horse- flesh. But cheap as this douzillon is, it is aluxury tothe French | 
Eaiat hae peasant, whose staple diet inay be said to ‘consist of cabbage or potato — 
% ae i soup; a piece of coarse fish- occasionally; sausages always—for, 
: ae ‘being made froin horse-flesh they are sold very cheap:, now. and 
‘b ~ then a piece of pork; considerable quantities of chicory-coffee; wine. 
vos “concocted from dried raisins and plaster of Paris; together with a 
~ tremendous proportion of coarse black bread. The consumption of 
haat per head—man, woman, and child—in Paris per year is 168.51 
_ kilos.* The general unwholesomeness of a French peasant’s diet, 
ey ais horror ot fresh air, and his Pebathet dirtiness, account for his a , 


a 


Pees 


An English peasant aims at 

- getting good food, but *his Rast confre ére cares not what he eats so 

ae as it does not cost much; for so great is his greed for gain that. 
he wil! haggle about a centime, and siarve for two days in the week — 

» tosave a sou. But, returning to the subject of cooking—Did you, e 

apes ts gpood. reader, ever get green peas cooked properly in France? — 

aN re the y not generally given to you clogged together in a mass, and — 
te vimining in ei butter? marian as ‘tor’ a pots iwt i dely a ; 


: 


“ * Statistique Alimentaire," page a, 


‘or Devonshire, Hampshire or Wiltshire, and the first respectab] 


- amiarvelous story he gives to his country of .the hideous types of — 


y than 
1 will undertake to £0 fhto Westinoteland: or Yorkshire, Lancashif 


-mechanic’s wife 1 meet shall be a better cook than the same class 
of women in France. Where is the Frenchwoman, whatever her 
station, who can make bread, good pastry, wholesome puddings? = 
who can stuff and roast a fowl, cook a pheasant or partridge, roast e 
aleg of mutton or joint of beef? who can stew a rabbit, make a 
peas-pudding, an Irish stew? who can make a jelly, stew eels; boil 
a cod’s head? who can make jam, a hot cake, mutton broth, a 
haricot? who can jug a hare, pot shrimps, or pot beef? who can” 
make a meat-pie or mutton-hash with toast in it? who cancooka’ 
chop, grid a steak, or‘mash’ potatoes? Yet all these things anda 
score more, the most ordinary Englishwoman is capable ot doing, ~~ 
and doing well. The women of France are, asarule, wretched 
cooks; and among the poorer classes the aim seems to be to get. % 
things as strong of garlic and as greasy as possible. Go among the vi 
navvies who work on the roads, the market- women, the porters, and = 
people of similar standing, and examine their food as they takeitat 
their meal-times; then look at the food eaten by the same class in 
England, and unless you are blind and a confirmed bigot, you will 
confess that England has the advantage by a long way. Tosaythat 
English people cannot cook is the veriest cant; and you have only to 
live in France long enough to know how untruthful the statement — 
is that the French ‘peasantry ean cook better than the’ same class in © 
England. The ‘‘ art and science of making messes’’ flourishes in 
France, and I am prepared to give the French all due credit for the — 
marvellous ingenuity they display; bat 1 object to Monsieur coming 
to us for a few weeks, and then going back to his country, and 
proclaiming that the English eternally live off ‘‘ ros-bif ’’ and ae wae 
ton-chops. Nae 


ee ee 


CHAPTER XML ee. 


The Frenchman in London—His Cat-like Love for his Haunts—His Dislike to  — 
Travel—Paris Municipal Council and the Hospitals—Social Life—How  ~— 
Children are brought up—The Dot—French ‘Courting—The Treatment of 
Infants—The general Unhealthiness of French Cildren ice ae t 
French Theaters—The English Flag and Liberty. 


If the French stranyver within our gates could, by any possible  —_— 
means, be induced to leave, Rupert street, Wardour street, andthe 
other precincts of  Leicester-square, and take a walk west, north, or — 
south, or east of the metropolis, how his mind would be expanded! £ 
Frenchmen have been known to find their way to the neighborhood 
of the docks; and M. Hector France is believed by his countrymen — 
to have been in Wapping; and if a Frenchman can only tear himself — 

away from the seductions of Leicester-square and the Alhambra— 
-if he can only muster up energy and courage enough, he struggles 
- into a bus and goes off to the purlieus of the docks, and then what — 


a English faces he has seen, and of the awful brutality of the Saxon! — 
That these English faces are not English faces at all doesn’t matter — 
tohim, That there are a few hundred thousand or so of foreigners: 


is ee 


fe’ act ss lB Ali haku) 1 eae 
a JOHN ‘BULL'S: NEIGHBOR. austere 69 


, 4s not of the sl chtsst conseqitence. He has seen them in the neigh- ; 
Ky _borhood ot the ‘docks in London, and that is quite enough. It is no 
Po business of his to discriminate. "When he flees from his « country and. 
comes to England for protection, be is perfectly well aware that he 
is coming among brutal Saxons, and with him it is a creed that the 
_ Saxon is a fiend incarnate. So he hies him away to the docks, and 
comes back to Leicester-square, and believes that. he knows London 
- intimately, and has seen the most. expressive types of the English 
people. It never enters into his head that the neighborhood of the 
docks in that most unholy of cities, Marseilles, 1s infinitely worse } 
than anything we have got to show; for there, every evil and every 
sin that human nature is capable of is committed hourly; while for 
- devilish, hideous, repulsive humanity it cannot be surpassed. We 
need not mention Toulon, Bordeaux, Brest, Havre: it is too well. 
yy known. what they are. ¥ 
Now, it our guest would try for once to leave the docks alone, 
and walk down that unique road that leads to Bow, he might benefit — 
in mind and body. And if he turned his steps north and went on 
to Highgate, Hampstead Heath, Primrose Hill, he might, if he were © 
‘susceptible, bevin to feel the beauty of London growing upon him. 
And then, if he would only steadily pursue his course into Oxford 
street, and, bearing west all the.time, give a glance round the truly 
grand neighborhood of Hyde Park, and-if he were not too fatigued 
he might stroll through the park and get into Piccadilly, and, still 
steering west, peep in rat Kensington Gardens, looking at the Albert 
Hail and Monument en route. Then let him turn down the Crom- 
_ well road, and when he gets to the bottom and gazes round on the 
unsurpassed grandeur which will meet him at every turn, he will, if 
he be an honest man. confess that London is not such a bad place 
after all. 1f he were a traveler, which unfortunately few French- 
men are, I would beg of him to spend a few hours exploring Bays- 
water, and coming down past Holland Park and House, go south to 
Chelsea, and crossing the river just peep in at Battersea Park. He 
might go on to Wandsworth, and, crossing the Common, get to 
Clapham Common; learn something of the neighbortood of Balham, 
and Streatham, and Clapham Park; and he might do worse’ than 
- extend his walk to Peckham Rye and the locality of Nunhead, 
At any rate, if he carried out this little programme, 1’l1 warrant me 
that, an’ he be an honest man, he will, as he sits down in his squalid — 
café or lodging in Leicester square, or its vicinity, to write an ac- 
count of London for his Paris paper, that he wili write with a less 
jaundiced view than he does now. Were it not too much to expect 
any Frenchman to travel so far from his haunts—for there is a good 
- deal of the cat’s nature in your Frenchman, and he hates to get far 
from the house where he lives—I should ask our next guest who is 
_ troubled with the cacoéthes scribendi, to endeavor to get up the river 
and explore some of its exquisite bits; and, above all, I would pray 
him to wander studiously and thoughtfully through Richmond 
. Park, and to see that view trom Richmond rill which has set poets: 
¥ and painters raving—and they not always of the brutal Saxon race 
either. And if he could—oh! if he only could be induced to slip 
into Kew Gardens, aud-after that make his way to the railway station _ 
and proceed to Windsor! And, when he had rested himself thor- 


RS UR Ai ay eg 


>\ 


ou 
ase Napmenniid of of pepe doe Bee mig 

_ head and Maidenhead, and getting | on {0 Holmw on run 
- up to the top of Leith Hill, and if our eternal fogs would only allow — 
of it, gaze on the panorama that is there untolded. Then bd A 
means he should come back to the little old- -time, chalky town 
Dorking, and hire—if he has money enough—a conveyance to ta 
him to the top of Box Hil: When he descends and has partaken o 
~. some slight refreshment at the exquisite little ivy-covered hostelry 
near the bridge at the foot of the hill, he can return to London, On : 
another day I would like him to get as far as Weybridge, and glance ; 
around there, and then tramp over to Godalming. Or if he would ve : 

- wenture among the brutal population of the far east, he might ex- . 
plore the sylvan beauties of Epping Forest and Chingford, and even. 
_ goas far as Rye House. Then there are Norwood and Beckenham’ 
- jn the south, Harrow in the north, in fact, scores of places all in the 
~ suburbs of our much-maligned metropolis, that if we could only 
- induce our dear friends to Visit, we might hear a little less of the 
_ brutal Saxons, and more of beautitul London, But, Se ae 
for us, London, as known to our French guests, is comprised within _ 
- aradius of half a mile from Leicester- -square. lt is regretable that — 
this should be so; but what can we do? You may take a horse to — 
|. the water, but you cannot compel him to drink. Nor can we com-_ 
“pel our Gallic visitors to see what they don’t want to see. I began — 
by explaining the nature of the disease—Anglophobia—from which ~ 
all Frenchmen suffer more or less. And so far as my experience 
_. goes —by-no means inconsiderable—I am strongly inclined to think 
- that the disease is perfectly incurable. We must, therefore, try and 
endure through it all as best we may. 
In conclusion, | must make a few remarks upon the position of 
Sranos as it is understood by ull thoughtful men at the present day, 
She is a declining nation, and will continue to decline until she gets. 
- astable and honest Government, who have the welfare of their coun- — 
_ try more at heart than the welfare of themselves and the filling of — 
their pockets out of the taxpayers’ money. I have, : already quoted 
the Paris ‘' Figaro ’’ on this very subject, and here is another Tas) vf 
sage from the same paper: wae 


“Instead of reducing the salaries of bishops from £2,000 to £600 
a year, the Chamber of Deputies might with advantage turn their 
attention to official jobbery.”’ 


_ This jobbery and peculation is a glaring and crying disgrace. It 
- corrupts the army, it corrupts the navy, it corrupts the State, it cor- - 
_ Tupts the people. And then again, how is it possible for a country eet 
to flourish and prosper when its people are eternally pulling down 
and altering the institutions upon which a nation’s greatness de- 
» pends? What can be said of a people, for instance, that can be 
g eaalty, of the following imbecility: 

‘The Paris Municipal Council is composed. jor the most part « of ‘ 
_ Anarchists, and these would-be destroyers 0” everything are going: 
to change the names of five hospitals in Paris, which bear the names 

+ of. L’Hotel Dieu, La Pitie, La. Charite, St. Antoine, and St. ‘Louis. 

oe . : These are all to be rechristened because. scl 4h Roa eal ae mem-. 


P7, 


ae 


a Homme et du Citoyen,” ‘ Boerhaave,” and * Velpeaux.’? What 


¢ “axe him to the hospital of les Droits de V Homme et du Citoyen.’’ 


_ the present year, are ‘altogether $21,500 francs, divided as follows:— 


Bibliotheque de I’ Arsenal, 15,000 francs. The French papers com- 


_ British Museum alone, 


bai ot i 


_ fi - instilled into the children; and from the time the children have their 


 gades, they are bound slaves to a worship that is imposing in its cer- 


~  emony but without true devotion. 


In their domestic lives there is an absence of regard for those ob- 
| a servances that people of less prurient minds “hold dear, Long DOE ite, 


fore a boy is out of his teens he is allowed full license; and, if the 
_ family is well off, it is a moral certainty that lony before the lad is 
twenty he will have ruined .his health, and have parsed through a 

~ career which we in our Saxon brutality should be disposed to stamp 
_ with the word disgraceful, if not infamous. I am aware that 
- amongst ourselves we have plenty of this sort of thing, quite enough 


et apt to ‘make us blush; and I believe we do blush, and sometimes weep. 
But with us it is rather the exception. In France it is quite a rec- 
__ ognized thing; and a young man is not supposed to have graduated 


- unless he can show a diploma for intrigue. So fully is this sort of 


ch, If we look at French social life, and examine it in all its Aataiia: 
ce we find it as hollow and as full of shams as it can possibly be. 
_ From an early age the dark superstitions of an exacting creed ure 


vis “ih fefr hy at 
f cel a eligious beliefs: Bol which we hee Henaret di our. | 
- selv es, an an do so again.” And so this precious Council is 
going to take away the beautiful and sentimental names, and substi- 
tute them .by ‘‘ La Solidarite,”’ ‘‘ Ambroise Sare,’’ * Les Prous de | 


8 change! Fancy any one having to say in reference to a patient, es 


Tf it were not so pitiable, it would be ridiculous. lf the worsten- 
-._ emy of France had wished to hold her up to public scorn and ridi- — 
cule, they could not have invented anything that would bave done 
it better than what 1 have quoted. It is not an invention, however, 
but an absolute truth. Then, instead of squandering such enormous, — 
- . gums of money in jobbery, would it not be more becoming if they 
ay ¢ spent some of itin improving the ignorance of the people? PG Fe 
CRE eS notwithstanding that the swollen budget for the present year is 
_ enormous, an official announcement just published states that the 
sums oranted by the French Government for the purchase of books, 
Ore manuscripts, medals, and seals by the great public libraries during en 


Bibliotheque Nationale, “181, 200 francs: Bibliotheque Mazarine, SA 
_ 93500 francs; Bibliotheque Ste. Genevieve, 16,000 francs; and | 


hy te that the total sum is less than that granted in London to se ios ‘ 


__ ** first communion ”’ to their dying day, unless they become rene- ‘4 


AS a 


Sey aS thing understood and recognized throughout France, that daughters rate - 


are watched and guarded in a manner that, though necessary, per- 


haps, while society is what it is in France, is, when taken with other _ 

i - things, incongruous and absurd. For instance, no restriction what- 

- ever is put upon the literature that may come into a girl’s hands, 

RAC ga _ nor the number of immoral plays she may witness ata theater. And . 

" te - any one who has the slightest pretensions to a knowledge.of France, = 

_ knows perfectly well that both French literature and the French Ries) 
a eBay are leaker and oy with. niger A most eminent ie 


Siompstie © tants of. Rea. Gitecaitue) “say 1 i Ip 
- of the literature of the day, I have been dragged into. the Ruri 
abyss of horrors of French romance-literature. I will say in on 
_ word—it is a literature of despair. In: order to produce a momentar 
effect, the very contrary of all that should be held up to man tor his 
, - safety or his comfort is brought before the reader, who atlast knows 
-not whither to fly or how tosave himself. ‘To push the hideous, the _ 
‘revolting, the cruel, the base, in short the whole brood of the vile * 
and abandoned to impossibility, is their Satanic task. One may, — 
and must, say task; for there is at the bottom a profound study of © 
old times, by bygone events and circumstances, remarkable and in- 
~ tricate plots, and incredible facts, so that itis impossible to call such © 
a work either empty or bad. And this task even men of remarkable _ . 
talents have undertaken; clever, eminent men, men of middle age, _ — 
" who feel themselves condemned henceforward to occupy themselves » — 
-./ with these abominations. . . . Everything truc—everything . 
-gesthetical is gradually aud necessarily excluded from this literature.”? 
But though the girl’s mind is allowed to be thus’ contaminated— 
though, of course, French people do not think that it is contamina- ~~ 
~~ tion, —an iron hand is kept over her personal movements. During ~~ 
her school-days, she is watched with hawk-eyed vigilance. When = — 
she is old enough to ‘‘ be brought out,’’ the parents set to work to 
bo ages her married... She. is taken to balls, concerts, parties, reunions, 
but always under guard, and not for five minutes ata time 1s she 
allowed the slightest liberty. She is on sale, and her value, includ- Ly 
ing her dot, is worth so much. - If a young man wishes to purchase 
her, he gets iis mother or his father, or some other relation or friend, 
to go to her parents, who are informed of his wishes, and the amount 
ot money he has. That he may be a 7owé is of no consequence, so 
Jong as the money is there. When the engagement has been - 
arranged, the young man and woman are allowed. to meet, but never — 
ig by any possible chance alone. Some near relation of the girl’s is 
always with her. The fiancé is not allowed for some time to do more 
Hees than to shake her hand, though, ‘ater, permission is given to him to © 
embrace her on meeting and on parting. Al! his letters to her are © 
- opened first by her euardians, and hers to him have to pass the 
censorship of the said guardian before they are dispatched. If the 
engaged couple waik out, following behind the girl, like her shadow, 
‘stalks her mother, sister, aunt, cousin, as the case may be. And so, 
- until the moment that the warriage ceremony has made them one, 
the young woman is never ouce left alone with her future husband. 
_ Now, whence springs this suspicion, if it is not froma knowledge — 
of the too real danger? It is the old story of the thief watching. the, 
thief. The results ' of this pernicious system of restricting all liberty” 
is seen in the awtul domestic misery throughout France, and the = 
‘total disregard of the seventh commandment. 3 
_. As soon as ever the young wife has shaken off the shackles of 
parental bondage, she abandons herself to her newly-acquired free- — 
dom. For the first few months, if the husband and wife do not — 
mutually agree to separate before then, there is much visiting and 
saipeiiae of visitors; and a ball or a theater every night is inevitable, i 


Nye Goethe: “Correspondence with Zelter.” 


Pai 9. pride, en st aie! be Good. ioctiny: is ue object of the most 
fulsome flattery and odious attentions on the part ot the young men 
OW ho swarm round her like bees round sugar. - From this swarm she 
soon selects her lover. When she becomes a mother the maternal © 
. are instincts would appear to be peculiarly evanescent, or, rather, they 
are crushed out by the national vanity and a slavish observance of a 
 eruel and ridiculous custom. No Frenchwoman of the slightest 
f Fh, ee ‘social standing would think of suckling her child. That would be 
an outrage against all conventional laws. The result is, the child is 
epee | either Sent away to a wet-nuise, or a nurse is hired for the house, 
- _ Bat in either case, the mother for the first few months seldom sees _ 
her infant. During this time the poor little mite is kept swathed in ‘ 
bandages exacily like an Egyptian mummy, and under no circum: 
» wea stances are the limbs allowed to have any play, for in the French | 
mind is a rooted conviction that if a baby is allowed to move its igs ‘ 
and arms they will not grow straight. es 


- When the child is taken out, it is doubly swathed, and, in additions 
ye: it will be wrapped in tlannel, and over that again will be putan 
enormous robe of cashmere or satin, according to the wealth of the 
parents; and in their vanity and love of show, the parents will lavish 
ae -. enormous sums of mouey on this one article of dress. T hen the 
baby’s face is closely muted up in a thick veil, and over his head © 
an umbrella is held, and in this state he is paraded up and down,a~ _ 
mere vehicle for the display of the grand robe. If any one doubts Ma 
_ the evil effect of this sort of thing on the national health, one has 
only to look at the chalky-faced, weakly children throughout France, 
ee _ There is no robustness, no vigor, no healthy life. — 
I find that in 1880 the marriages in France were only 7° 9 per 1, 000 
i (inhabitants, while the births were 26°4 per 1,000, and the deaths 
Ra aL “4 per 1 ,000, * These figures are so suggestive as toneed no com- 


we 


ae 


+) o> ment from me. But 1 would ask the reader to contrast the low — 
Russ percentage of marriages with the high percentage of births. ~The, 
_ same authority gives for that year the percentage of illegitimacy as # 


4-41 per 100 inhabitants! the total number of illegitimate births TOP 42 
____ the total population of 37,314,660 being 68,227 during the year, 


With reference to the population of France, 1 may quote some in- - 
teresting statistics that have been recently issued by the Ministry of 
_ Agriculture, the object of them being to obtain an approximate esti- 
‘mate as to whether the total number of inhabitants in France will athe ne 
' greater or less at the close of the century than itis now. The figures ~ 
a ay » so far worked out tend to prove that there is likely to be a decrease ten 
in the population, for though from 1806, when the total eae : 
on? Ke ‘was 29,107,425, to. 1872 there was an annual increase of 38 per LU; 
‘ 000 inhabitants, that increase has since dropped. to 26 per 10, 000. | oY 
__ . There is reason to believe that the rate of increase is still further de. 
i mt Clining, and that there are not upon the average more than two chil- 
dren to each family. The returns also state ‘that out of every 100. 
- inhabitants of Paris only 36 are born in the department,.57 coming 
_ from the provinces, and seven from abroad. Moreover, while the 


, 
hy 


sree mandy, and 15 per cent. for the whole of France, 


“ fant qabrthitty is enormous, open as. He as 47 per. cent, ih 


Let the reader particularly note in these statistics, that the infant 


“mortality for the whole of France reaches the high figure ot 15: perce 
éent. Thoughtful Hrenchmen, weuld do well ‘to ponder on this © 


~ alarming destruction of the young of the country, But who that 


knows anything about the infant life of France will be surprised? — 


As soon as ever a baby comes into the world, it is dosed with strong 


und drastic purges; then it is immediately swathed in bandages ex-. i he ; 
actly like a mummy, and for the first year of its life itis very sel- — ~ 


dom properly washed, for French nursesand mothers have a perfect 
dread of water touching their children. 


Then, as 1 have already described, mothers in France do not, as a 


“rule, suckle their own children, The bourgeois class look upon this 


- maternal operation as undignified; besides, a French woman is too: 


fond of gayety and pleasure to yield readily to the trammels that a 
baby imposes, so the child is delivered up to a stranger. Its mother, 


when she can spare the time, looks in on it occasionally. Descend- 


ing in the scale to the peasantry, the women, for the most. part being 
the hewers of wood and drawers of water, cannot give the slightest 
‘attention to their children, and so they are ‘sent away to women who 


make a living by taking care of infants. Here, amongst the most 


appalling dirt, squalor, and miset y, the child passes the first year or 


soot its life, and if it happens to survive the ordeal, it is a stunted, 


rickety, miserable creature. 
- . Itsurely needs no further evidence than this to account for the fact 
that the average duration of life in France is much lower than it is in 
_-England. But if other evidence were necessary, it might be found 
in the dirty and lazy habits of the people. Personal cleanliness is a 
“thing they care very little about, and they dread ventilation, Then 


again, the enormous quantities of absinthe and other filthy decoc- — ay 


tions that are consumed must tend to sap vitality; while the love of 
outdoor sports, which is so characteristic of the British, does not ex- 
ist amongst our neighbors, A Frenchman prefers to pass his spare 


hours in a fetid billiard-room, a reeking café, or in a cramped-up. 


_. bowling-alley; but he shrinks from manly and healthy outdoor 
sports as he would shrink from the pest. 

The evil of this dislike for exercise manifests itself very conspic- 
uously in the women, A French woman is the very incarnation of 
laziness and slovenliness. The oneruling thoughtof her life is dress. 
She cannot walk, or, if she can, she won’t, and she does not believe 
that cleanliness is next to godliness. 

By the time French women are twenty-four or twenty-five they are 


as old and not half as active as the generality of our women of thirty © 


to thirty-five. They are burdened with an excess of fat, and are 
‘almost invariably as yellow as saffron. The fat is due to want of 


exercise, and to the immense quantities of saccharine mattera 


French woman eats, for she is never happy unless she is drinking Cau 
gucrée, syrups, OF munching bonbons. ‘The yellowness is the result 
r of the want of fresh air and liberal use of soap and water, 


‘But there is one thing that a French woman excels in, and that is Be 
are the making of a complexion. ‘The brilliant fresh complexions that 
"One #ees on the boulevards and in og Bois are the skillful preduo:, 


pur 


ey ot cae Bt ut. ‘Goamaties, Htoaie rouge, Fea wae: a 1 hundred and one 


Ke : Bat 


other elaborate preparations are indispensable lo a French woman’s- 


- toilet-table; and if nature has failed to give her a good figure—and_ - 
not one woman in France out of every five has a good figure—she 


take many more tomes yet to exhaust it. It is therefore almost au-_ of 
dacious to attempt to criticise the stage in France in a few words; 


‘ 


relies upon her dressmaker to supply the want, and by | means of 
false bust, false stomach, false hips, shoulder- -pads, quiltings, and 
other artful devices, she is turned out faultless to all appearances. >. 


This art of making uv the figure—an art which men do not hesitate 
‘to avail themselves of—is one that is peculiarly French; andit would 


be unjust and ungenerous not to frankly admit that our ne ae 


are perfect in it. A 
The purpose of this little work would scarcely be fulfilled if some © 
passing reference was not made to French theaters. I am aware that 
the subject is one upon which tomes have been written, and it would 


but I feel impelled by a sense of duty to enter a strong protest 
against the cant that is talked in England about French acting and 


. French plays. 


This cant seems to have become almost a fashion amon gst a certain 


ciass of people in our own country, who, in their ignorance Of ony 


‘France and the French, think it is ‘* good form’? to exclaim, ** Ah! 


3? 


erly.”’ The people who talk thus are generally those who are the 

aps are infinitely superior to the French as actors, and so jealous are . 
_the French of their rivals in this matter that there has recently been 
a dead set against everything Italian; and the Italian Opera in Paris) 


has ceased to exist, on the: plea that * French peaple are incapable of 


appreciating Italian music.”? Ot course they are, and for the very 
substantial reason that Italian music and Italian acting are above 
them. If one compares the two lyrical and representative theaters, 


- the Grand Opera in Paris and La Scala at Milan, the former sinks 


into utter insignificance, At La Scala one witnesses the very peter 


tion of art, in “Paris only a tawdry imitation. 


uke 


The French, in their vanity for outward show, have erected a mag- | \ 


~ nificent temple of the Drama in their Grand Opera House; but I 


laine 
wv Ah, 


Clay 


ie 


7 


- 


venture to assert that its magnificence is all in its gilt and decora-, as 


tions, for a worse-ventilated and more uncomfortable house of’ its 
‘kind does not exist, while the way in which the theater is managed 


would disgrace a body of schoolboys. One never knows until a few . 


‘hours beforehand what is going to be performed, and the perform- | 


_ ances, generally speaking, are beneath contempt, considering the ee Oh 
tensions that are made. 


Then as regards the much-vaunted Comedie Francaise—is not our 


_ own Lyceum, under Mr. lrving’s management, its equal in every re- 
_ spect? have we not something to be proud of when we remember the 
_ glorious career of the tiny Prince of Wales’s under the Bancrofts?, 
+ and where in Paris at the present day can we find the equals of the |. 
_ Haymarket, the Court, the St. James’s, the Prince’s, the Princess's, 
ie _ the Savoy? 


‘While the Gayety, Drury Lane, the Adelphi, the Vaudeville, the 


- Strand, the Grand, may piss the whole of France to rival them, 


vie ee” 


nw i, 44 7 
bia ea Kid MY Lae at 
sey PBS is fe ae #4 
i AVA Oct 

PN a eM cs + : Wea 

K u ¢ h 7 . 
PANG tie nn eh a ¢ . 


you must go to Paris it you want to see this sort of thing done prop- ah 


pact qualified to express an opinion, Asa matter of fact, the Ital- — ; 


not ifs equal Cabenat ath } ‘And thoug g 
; glish managers to go to France for their dramatic wa: 
Is setting in, and the last few years have proved that we 
talent amongst ‘us which is capable of turning out infinitely etter 
stuff, purer, “healthier, aud higher in tone than: NE YEARS, our neigh- 
| _ bors can send us. af 
In conclusion, I must once more make reference to the ‘Angloph mee 
“bic criticisms to which we have so long been subjected at the hands 
of our good friends. We are told that we are gloomy, melancholy _ 
1 tena and even an English writer * has caught up this cant,anmd 
echoed it. He speaks of our having ‘‘ peopled one “whole continent _ 
with our lank-jawed kinsmen, and fringed another with the careworm 
faces of our sons. A full halfof the alobe’ 8 surface is given over to 
the: melancholy Englishman—with his somber attire, his repellen 
pprpnnets, his eloomy worship, his mechanic habitudes ‘of toil.”’ 
‘This is cant of a very silly type. In what way is the Englishman 
more melancholy than any other civilized race? 1t has been said and 
‘sung that our peasantry are the happiest in the world; and those who 
know the ‘Italian and French peasantry will certainly not venture to— 
assert that ours are inferior to them. English worship may be 
_ gloomy, and in my opinion is so; but it is at least free trom the hor- 
_mible superstitions of the Romish Church. . 
And then as to our ‘‘ mechanic habitudes of toil.’? Why it is these 
very mechanic habitudes that have made us the mighty people-that 
“we are, and that place usin the van of all other nations; and as there 
“Gs no effect without a. cause, it would seem, arguing from the fore 
~ going premises, that these very characteristics which are so con 
-demned are what bave enabled us to spread ourselves over the face 
of the globe. How is it the French have not been able to do this? 
es is it the French cannot colonize? How is it the French cannot 
civilize savage peoples as we can do? They: must be wanting in 
something which we possess. What is that something, if it is not 
_ the mechanic habitudes of toil? We succeed where the French fail. 
Why? The French are just as ambitious of spreading themselves. 
- all over the globe as we have been, but they have not been able to 
accomplish it. 3; i 
_.. »And since our kinsmen on ‘the other side of the Atlantic have 
 ybuilt up a mighty nation, and our kinsmen at the Antipodes are fol- 
ie + Towing in their wake, it would seem as if the gloom and the melan- 
-. choly, the somber attire, and the mechanic habitudes of toil, are the 
: «. indispensable conditions to becoming powerful and great. It has 
- been my lot to travel over a’ great part of the world, and it has never 
yet struck me that Englishmen or their kinsmen in America we 
‘more gloomy or more melancholy than any:other races of people. — 
_ If they take life more seriously, it is because they have a higher 
‘regard for the serious duties that life imposes; but I am strongly of 
opinion that an Englishman gets quite as much enjoyment out o 
Jite as a native of any other civilized country. At any rate, if our ~ 
iacananGl friends would only try to view us aes an ner aH 


~ Ni basi 


JOHN BULL’S NEIGHBOR. ~ 79 


present us to be. Even if their criticisms were conceived in a spirit 
of truth and fairness, they would carry weight; but they are so man- 
ifestly the outcome of malignant jealousy, so unfriendly in their 
tone, and so bitter in their denunciations, that we may well afford to 
treat them with indifference. 

As in the past we have lived through French jealousy and envy, 
so shall we in the future; and while France is seething with internal 
passion, while her power as a nation is waning, and growing weaker 
day by day, we, gloomy, melancholy hypocrites, will steadily pursue 


our way, and the English tongue will continue to spread, while the 


Flay that is the symbol of Freedom, Truth, and Honor, shall float on 
the winds in the remotest. corners of the earth, carrying with it a 
laws and morality to countless millions of the great human family. 


TUE DAD. 


a ada 


ne i . ee 


| 2 The Rock or The Rye. 


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Sequel to’ “The Count of 

MONte-OFiston eet oe ls bas 25 
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Randall Comfort.... 00... 025. 


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26 Eve the Factory Girl. By Lucy 
PARANA OOM TONG Gases ce es 25 

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MeVeigh Miller........0005.0. 

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Randall: COMMOLi ies apeoee 25 

40 The Banker’s Daughter. By Mag- 
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Agnes Fleming....c..eeeerees 25 


42 Lancaster’s. Choice. By Mrs. 
Alex. MeVeigh Miller........ 
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Veigh Miller..... JON ie he one ae 2 
44 The Pearl and the Ruby. By Mrs. 
Alex. McVeigh Miller......... 25 
45 Beautiful Ione’s Lover, By Laura 
Jéan Libbey iis So. abe casa 
46 Eric Braddon’s Love. By Mrs. 
, Alex. McVeigh Miller,......4. 25 
47 Frou-Frou. From the French of 
MM. Meilhae and Halevy. By 
Charlotte M. Stanley. 
48 The Unseen Bridegroom. By May 
: Agnes Fleming. .......00. 055 25 
49 Little Sweetheart. By Mrs. Alex. 
MeVeigh Miller. 3 .2....00048.. 25 
50 Flower and Jewel. By Mrs. Alex. 
MeVeigh Miller .... 
51 Little Nobody. By Mrs. ‘Alex. 
MeVeigh Miller..........00 4% 25 
52 The Depth of Love. By Hannah 
Blomereny 20 vie nNier owe 
53 Cast Upon His Care. Dora Delmar 52 
54 The Secret of Estcourt. By Dora 
Delia rs Seu ieee ive were eon Io 
55 May Blossom. By Margaret Lee. 25 
56 Under Five Lakes. By M. Quad. 25 | 


25:1 57 The Fugitive Bride (The Bayou 


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58 Kildee; or, The Sphinx of the 

Red House. By Mary E. Bryan 25 
59 A Tempting Offer. Dora Delmar 25 
00 A Heart of Fire. By Jean Corey 25 
61 Answered in -Test. Dora Deimar 25 
62 His Legal Wire. Mary E. Bryan 26 
638.Nan Haggard, the Heiress of 


Dead Hopes Mine. By Mary 
BP Ayia ain ee nee 
64 The Girl He Bought. By Mrs. _ 
Mary E. Bryan...... Aa er A 25 
65 A Handuarhe Sinner. By Dora 
Delman sh 38 Bee P A erase 
66 In the Golden City. By Dora 


%S 
67 By a Golden Cord. Dora Delmar £ — 


68 Where Love Leads. 


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1467 A New Lease of Life ....*25 


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1345 Aunt Hepsy’s Foundling*25 
Author of “ Addie’s Huse 
‘ band.’’ 


888 Addie’s Husband; or, 
Through Clouds toSun- 
shine Coe we alnierdia eoversoeeere 5 

504 My Poor Wife........... #25 

1046 Jessie............ Pieyasei tae 


Max Adeler. 


1550 Random Shots......../.*25 
1569 Elbow Room ...... mah Paik 7. 5! 


Author of ‘°A Fatal Doweyr.’’ 
872 Phyllis’s Probation...... 25 


Author of *°A Golden Bar.’’ 
483 Betwixt My Love and Me.*25 


Author of *“‘A Great Mise 
take.’ 


244 A Great Mistake.......... 25 
SSS Cherry oes. ok Ah oS a 75 
1040 Clarissa’s Ordeal...... er (25 
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2187 Suzanne.. eS 
Author ot “*A Woman’s 
Love-Story.’”’ 


822 A Woman's Love-Story..#25 
Author of “for Mother's 
Sake.’ 


1900 Leonie; or, The Sweet 
Street Singer of New 
ORR. ao ¢ tink cath wees $e e000 


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383 Introduced to Society... .*25 


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1341 ey reper of Arkan- 


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1401 The Buccaneer Chief.... 26 


1402 The Smuggler Hero..... 25 
1404 The Rebel Chief; ........ 25 
1650 The Trail-Hunter........ 25 
1653 The Pearl of the Andes.. 25 
1672 The Insurgent Chief.... 26 
1688 The Trapper’s Daughter 25 
1690 The Tiger-Slayer..... eee ep 
1692 Border Rifles. ......5..0. 25 
1700 The Flying Horseman... 25 
1701 The Freebooters......... 25 
1714 The White Scalper...... 25 
1723 The Guide of the Desert. 25 
1732 Last of the Aticas......3 25 
1734 Missouri Cutlaws........ 25 
1736 Prairie Flower..... euaiwene 


1740 Indian Scout.. 


1741 Stronghand ............- 
1742 Bee-Hunters........... ae ee 
1744 Stoneheart...........0- +. 25 
ps The Gold-Seekers........ 25 
i 52 Indian Chief.:... Vibe cetk ee 


(OO. Red: Trackin. oo arp 25 
inet The Treasure of Pearls.. 25 
1768 Red River Half-Breed... 25 


Grant Allen. 


712 For Maimie’s Sake...... 25 
1221 ** The Tents of Shem’’,,, 26 
1783 The Great Taboo........ #25 


3870 What’s Bred in the Bone*25 
1908 Dumaresq’s Daughter...*25 
2022 Duchess of Powysland..*25 


Mrs. Alexan dex. 


5 The Admiral’s Ward..., 25 
17. The Wooing QO’ ppeeah 25 
62 The Executor. . are GAP No 3° 

189 Valerie’s Fate.......22.% 25 


229 Maid, Wife, or Widow?.. 23° 


236 Which Shall it Be?..:... 25 
339 J ied Vereker’s Pasion 

490 A. Second Life... PA) 
564 At Bay vais uck Gwe whe sw reeed 
794 Beaton’s Bargain,. 
79% Look Before You Leap., 25 
805 The: Freres) ce iekieee te 

‘ans Her Dearest Koeed cess 2B 


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gt4 The ones of ieeeicks 25 
815 Ralph Wilton’s Weird... 25} 
~ 900. By Woman’s Wit... 026. 25 
997 Forging the Fetters, and 
The Australian Aunt. ...*25 


1054 Mona’s Choice......,..2. 25 
1057 A Life Interest... 20.20. 25 
1189 A Crooked Path......... 25 
1199 A False Scent: ... 20.022. 25 
1367 Heart Wins........ von Lan ea 
1459 A Woman’s Heart....... 25 
AGA BUDE WARE Ke ie voli ee 25 


2158 What Gold Can Not Buy. 25 
Mrs. Alderdice. 


1582 An Interesting Case..... 25 


Alison. 


481 The House That Jack 


BULLE e uuae es eta esas #25 
Hans Christian Andersen. 
1814 Andersen’s Fairy Tales.. 25 
Ww. P. Andrews. 
1172 India and Her Neighbors*25 


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1346 A Terrible Legacy.. ....*25 
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1837 Woman’s Trials. ...... .*25 
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1640 Ways of Providence..... #25 
1641 Home Sceneés............ #25 


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1652 Words for the Wise......*25 
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267 pee and Hound in Cey- oe 


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1514 Deep Down........: civte 
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776 Pére Goriot...... 2. cece ee 25 
1128: Gousin Pons. j.o0 eck. 25 


1318 The Vendetta.......2.... 25 
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787; Courbh Royahicsiscesucs #25 
878 Little Tu’penny..... sisi teD 
DIVA EVE Pid alah wae ey #25 
1201 Mehalah: A Story of the 
Salt Marshes.ii. 3.003. ees) 
1697 Red Spider... 0.22.3. . #25 
1711 The Pennyeomequicks.. ons Ata 
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1779 Armineil Cislete pers she wie, are io ron y a ae 
1821 UTES Olasteais ose eeieae nee AT) aa 


Frank Barrett. 


986 The Great Hesper..... 25 
1138 A Recoiling Vengeance, .*25 
1245 Fettered for Life........ #25 Bei Pky 3112's 
1461 Smuggler’s Secret....... 25 aM ae 


1611 Between Life and Death. 25 
1750 Lieutenant Barnabas... .*25 


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1896 My Lady Nicotine....... 25 
1977 Better Dead... 2... ee. 25 . eth 
2099 Auld Licht Idylls....... 25 Big he aes 
2100 A Window in Thrums... 25 Misa 
2101 When a Man's Single... 2 


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344 “*The Wearing of the Sieh 
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585 A Drawn Game......... *25 ha 


G. M. Bayne. 
1618 Galaskis. i.e. cis ee coe HOD 


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188) Tdonea fos eee 25 
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1605 Wrecks in the Sea of 
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By the Writer of, ** Belle’s 
Letters. 


2091 Vashti and Esther...... 25 


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1706 Jim, the Parson... ......#25 
1720 Our Roman Palace......*25 


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1624 Vie st et ents eeeecereeseee MOD 


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eo q meal é p , 
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SIP DOdOn ki vaades se een ese 25 1 Yolande..... eeee wees eee a) 
18 Shandon Bells........... 
E. Berger. 21 pane A Story of These 
h ARIS 'p LNOB: 42 Spudwie ian ve vi 
ho tht a ae ah ond as 23 A Princess of Thule..... 25 
E. Berthel. 89 In Silk Attire. ........... 25 
1589 The Sergeant’s Legacy..#25] 44 Macleod of Dare........ 25 
49 That Beautiful Wretch.. 25 
Walter Besant. 50 ne Be alo hia Adventures 
: j ; of a Phaeton. 
1 Uncle Jack ne 495] 70 White Wings: A’ Yacht. 
140 A Glorious Fortune..... #25 3 ing Romance a'e\g sieiai.9 6 He 25 
146 Love Finds the Way,and "8 Madcap Violet........... 25 
Other Stories. By Besant 81 A Daughter of Heth..... 25 
Bd Riko 2 8 Choc: RAY 124 Three Feathers..... ... . 25 
230 Dorothy Forster...... ... 25| 18 The Boneren of Mincing 
824 In Luck at Last......... 25 Lanes, : ieee veeeeees a5 
B41 Uncle Jack........e..e5. #95 126 Kilmeny Cd MW WERE UF gta Sb) OC 25 
651 “ Self or Bearer”....... *OB, 138 Gr dil Pastures and Pic: 
2 Chi crac cadi y ee Ne CYR eae 
B Chiltron, of Gideon... op, ln shaiapeare He 
) 906 The World Went Very Love Affairs and Other 
za) Well Then........ eas, 25 Adventures.. .....++.++ 25 
980 To Call Her Mine.....,.. 25| 4/2 The Wise Women of In- 
; ~ pp ‘ * VOINeESS) 40.505 S08 Ou 
‘ eee enter 2) oar White Heathers ss.) 3c 25 
bi His Greatness, and His 898 Romeo and Juliet: A Tale 
; LA ESTAR are SI #25 of Two Young Bools, «029 
1148 The Inner House........ #95 | 962 Sabina Zembra ......+..720 
1151 For Faith and Freedom, .*25 | 1096 The Strange Adventures 
1240 ‘The Bell of St. Paul’s....#25] |, ,0f,8 House-Boat,........*25 
1247 The Lament of Dives.... 25 1132 In Far Lochaber........ 25 
1378 They Were Married. By 1227 aa Penance of John 
Walter Besant and Jas. | 1959 Nanciebel: A’ ‘Tala of 
1413 Armorel of Lyonesse.:.. 25 .Stratford-on-Avon.. .... . 
1462 Let Nothing You Dismay*25 1268 Prince Fortunatus,...... 25 
1580 When the Ship. Comes 1389 Oliver Goldsmith. . #25 
Home. By Besant and 1394 The Four Macnicols, and | 
Beer A Me i eRe, #25 Other Tales. jase diot ses 
1655 The Demoniac........... 95 | 1426 An Adventure in Thule. 035 
1861 St. Katherine’ s by the 1505 as Silverdale’s Sweet- 
Tower. Eimiawens atone cit #95 ATU ee peared suis 25 
1506 Mr. ee ne Brown, 
MM. Beth am-eKdwards. ee 6) (el ee: 6 BO O00 dein ialwrars *OK 


ae 203 Roe and OES orThe | TN Ce es 
aiting on an Islan 2 
t 579 eae otk er of Doom,and ee 1892 Donald Ross of Heimra,. 25 
WERE ther Stories......... .-D. BI . 
4 594 Doctor Jacob ........... #25 67 ines te pice oS an 
1023 Next of Kin—Wanted.. Het 427 The Remarkable History 
1407 The Parting of the Way $*25 of Sir Thomas Upmore 


, é eats hog 3 “ oe an? . ia FRB Bart.. M 
7 * or ne an t e or R65 Vee hae nwa eeteseaane 
1627 A Romance of the Wire.*25 se ct ee ah Paiher's - 
a v) 
ns : Jeanie Gwynne Bettany. a Ba Baath atm Wi ded eee tal Oe ae % 
: ipps, the Carrier...... 25 
eu 1810 A Laggard in Love......*25) 630 Gr abel Nowell..... eS 
bit r mA 631 Christowell......... Seen PRO 
pats Bjornstjerne Bjornson. 632 Clara Vaughan.......... 25 
ith ; 1385 Arne.. ree fore eee es eme 25 633 The Maid of Sker..... eee 25 


es 1888 The Happy Boy......... 25| 686 Alice Lorraine.......... 25 
Pea? Sa it Books marked thus* areat presentapiaator covers. 


¥ 
t 


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{ 
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926 Ae even US eee kee bh cD 
1267 Kit and Kitty...........*25 
Isa Blagden. 

_%05 The Woman I-Loved, and 
: the Woman Who Loved 
Me:...... I Sa ERED oti bekeo 
Cc. Blatherwick. 
151 The Ducie Diamonds... .*25 


Edgar Janes Bliss. 
2102 The Peril of Oliver Sar- 


gent........ See Se bie «+ RO 
Frederick Boyle. 
856 The Good Hater......... #25 


Miss M. BE, Braddon. 
f 85 Lady Audley’s Secret... 25 


» 56 Phantom Fortune:...... 25 

4 Aurora PlOVd. sees ay 

110 Under the Red Flag..... *25 

- 153 The Golden Calf......... *25 

DOAN IRON eka faiaalete ais 25 

211 The Octoroon........... 25 
234 Barbara; or, Splendid 

WVLISEPY ses hed a sec be te oul 25 

963 An Ishmaelite .......... #25 


815 The Mistletoe Bough. 
Christmas, 1884, Edited 
by Miss M. E. Braddon. 25 


434 Wyllard’s Weird........ 25 
478 Diavola; or, Nobody’s 
Daughter iit cote ae 2D 


480 Married in Haste. Edi- 
y cae by Miss M. E. Brad- By 
487 Put tothe Pest. Haited by, 
Miss M. BE. Braddon....*25 
488 Joshua Haggard’ s be 


DAUeNLOP ssid cin ee ose 
489 Rupert Godwin.......... 25 
495 Mount Royal.......... 25) 


496 Only a Woman. Edited 
by Miss M. E. Braddon.*25 


497 The Lady’s Mile........; #25 
om On A COU eswhc coe xo 425 
9 The Cloven Foot........ 25 
511 A Strange World Ae al le 25 
515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant..... #25 
524 Strangers and Pilgrims. *25 
529 The Doctor’s Wife...... *25 
542 Fenton’s Quest...... ... #25 
544 Cut by the County; or,* 
Grace Darnel .....5.... *25 


548 A Fatal Marriage, and 
er abe] Shadow in the Cor- 
Big Dudley Garioon: or, The 
Brother’s Secret, and 
Geers Caulfield’s Jour- ne 
B52 Hostages to Forune. ..*25 
(658 Birds of Prey..+.s+ ate 25 


Books moaived thus ave at en any Alligator cover& 


“THE SEASIDE LIBRARY, 


554 Charlotte’ s Inheritance. F 
(Sequel to ‘Birds of 


Prey) wks eine Bulvteats 
557. To the Bitter End....... 25 
559 Taken at the Flood.....*25 
S60‘ ASPHOA OL canis ee eee 23 
561 Just as I am; or, ‘A Liv- 

INE TAG ec eras toe ; 
567 Dead Men’s Shoes....... 25 


570 Jp 75 Marchmont’s Leg: 
618 The Mistletoe Bough. 
Christmas, 1885. Edited 
by Miss M. E. Braddon. 25 
840 One Thing Needful; or, 
The Penalty of Fate...*25 
881 Mohawks.../...-......6: *25 
890 The Mistletoe Bough. i 
Christmas, 1886. Edited 
by Miss M. EK. Braddon..*25 
943 Weavers and Weft; or,. 
** Love pat Hath Us in 
HisiNeG Fe Ca eid ules #25 
947 Publicans and Sinners; 
or, Lucius Davoren....*25 
1036 Like and Unlike......... 25 
1098 The Fatal Three......... 25 


1211 The Day Will Come..... te ; 


1411 Whose Was the Hand?.. 


1664 Dead Sea Fruit......0.5.. oe 
1893 The World, Flesh and the 
DOV ieee ket veces 55 


Annie Bindshaw, 
706. A Crimson Stain.........%*25 


Charlotte M. Braeme, Aue 
thor of ** Dora Thorne.” 
19 Her Mother’s Sin........ 25 
51 Dora Thorne..... Reith ge 25 
54 A Broken Wedding-Ring 25 
€8 A Queen Amongst 


Women!) Coren ees ee 
69 Madolin’s Lover ........ 25 
73 Redeemed by Love; or, 

Love’s Victory.... .... 


“6 Wife in Name Only; ae 
. <A Broken Heart.. 
79 Wedded and Par ted:. eney 
92 Lord Lynne’s Choice... 25 
148 Thorns and Orange- _ 
BlOSSOMB. SEF. 6 CRS 


190 Romance of a Black Veil 5 : 


194 ‘**So Near, and Yet So 
Tapa ee aoe 25 
290 Which Loved Him Bemh 25 
237 Repented at Leisure.... 25 
246 A Fatal Dower... ....02.4 25 
249 ** Prince Charlie’s Daugh- 
ter;’’ or, The Cost of 
Her LOVe.i256 ec ieees 
250 Sunshine and Roses; or, 
Diana’s Discipline...... 
254 The Wife’s Secret, and 
Fair but False......ce0. @ 


TS ar yeti 


hea — 


rig 
A 


POCKET EDITION. _ Baa, | 


or, Vivien’s Atonement = 


991-Love’s Warfare.........: 
292 A Golden Heart: ........ 4 
296A Rose in ‘lhorns......- 25 


~ 99 The Fatal Lilies, and A 


Bride from the Sea...; 25 

300 A Gilded Sin, .and A 
Bridge of Love......:.. 25 

303 Ingledew House, and 
More Bitter than Death 25 
5 


~ 304 In Cupid’s Net. ....2..... 2 
’ 805 A Dead Heart. and Lady 


Gwendoline’s Dream... 25 
306 A Golden Dawn, and 


Love for a Day......... 20 
307 Two Kisses. and Like no 

Other Love oe eee 25 
308 Beyond Pardon.......... 25 
322 A Woman's Love-Story. 25 
320 A Willful Maid.......... 25 
835 The White Witch..:..... 25 
doz At Any Cost..es..... Sure 
411 A Bitter Atonement..... 25 
430 A Bitter Reckoning..... 25 
433 My Sister Kate.......... 20 
459 A Woman’s Temptation. 25 
460 Under a Shadow........ 25 


- 461 His Wedded Wife........ 25 


465 The Earl’s Atonement... 25 
466 Between Two Loves..... 25 
467 A Struggle for a Ring... 25 
469 Lady Damer’s Secret,... 25 
470 Evelyn’s Folly........... 25 
471 Thrown on ihe World... 25 
476 Between Two Sins; or, 
Married in Haste....... 25 
516 Put Asunder: or, Lady 
Castlemaine’s Divorce, 25 
518 The Hidden Sin......... 25 
519 James Gordon’s Wife... 25 
547 A Coquette’s Conquest,. 25 
576 Her Martyrdom...... 25 


626 A Fair Mystery; or, The 


‘Perils of ‘Beauty... .....25 
628 Wedded Hands.......... 25 
OPT ARTISGIGA Yi oi, oa ok rien week 25 
741 The Heiress of Hilldrop; 

or, The Romance of a 


MOURN LHL oud on coe ee 25 
%45 For Another’s Sin: or, A 
! Struggle for Love...... 25 
755 Margery Daw. ... 0000... 25 
759 In Shallow Waters...... 25 
778 Society’s Verdict........ 25 
792 Set in Diamonds......... 25 
807 If Love Be Love.......... 25 
821 The World. Between 

PHOT Ake c ey MAG PANS | 
822 A Passion Flower........ 25 
829 The Actor’s Ward....... 25 


853 A True Magdalen....... 25 


854 A Woman’s Error.......°25 


me 
Books marked thus* are at nresent t inn. Alligator covers, 
é eo ot 
a 


278 For Life and Love...... 25 
» 288 The Sin of a Lifetime; 


922 Marjorie.. pm Creee vei! bs 
928 At War With Herself..., 2 
924 *T'wixt Smile and Tear... 
927 Sweet Cymbeline..... ou 
928 The False Vow; or, 
Hilda; or, Lady Hut- 
ton’s: Ward 0 ee >) 
928 Lady Hutton’s Ward; or, 
sak or, The False 


928 Hilda; or, The False 
Vow; or, Lady Hutton’s 
Wa Pe, TaN ie SES eG 
929 The Belle of Lynn; or, 
The Miller’s Daughter.. 25 
931 Lady Diana’s Pride..... 25 
933 A Hidden Terror..... ona RO 
948 The Shadow of a Sin,... 25 
949 Claribel’s Love Story; or, 
Love’s Hidden Depths.. 25 
952 A Woman’s War........ 20 
953 Hilary’s Folly; or, Her 
Marriage Vow........ 
955 From Gloom to Sunlight: 
or, From Out the Gloom 25 
958 A Haunted Life; or, Her 
Terrible Sin,.......0. 604 25 
964 A Struggle for the Right 25 
968 Blossom and Fruit; or, 
Madame’s Ward....... 25 
969 The need of Colde 
Fell; or, Not Proven... 25 
973 The Sauires Darling... ; 25 
975 A Dark Marriage Morn.. 25 
978 Her Second Love........ 25 


982 The Duke’s Secret....... 2D 


985 On Her Wedding Morn, 
and The Mystery of the 
Holly-Trees. vcs. belts 25 

988 The Shattered Idol, and 
Letty Leigh 27k 25 

990 The Earl’s. Error, and 
Arnold’s Promise....... 

995 An Unnatural Bondage, 
and That Beautiful 


1006 His Wife’s Judgment..., 25 
1008 A Thorn in Her Heart... 25 


1010 Golden Gates.......... +. 2D 
1012 A Nameless Sin.. pst 3 
1014 A Mad Love.......... Boppy 
1037 Trene’s: Vows). cere 25 
1052 Signa’s Sweetheart....2. 


25 
1091 A. Modern Cinderella.... 25 
1134 Lord Elesmere’s Wife.... 25 
1155 Lured Away; or, The 
Story of a Wedding- 
Ring, and The Heiress 
(OL ALNOY erly Bowe ws vb 
1179 Beauty’s Marriage....... 25 
1185 A Fiery Ordeal........ oe OO 
1186 Guelda........ Ve eb e ee eee 
1195 Dumaresq’s Temptation, 25 
1285 ‘Jenny. csossins hse ccbenaacae 


a 


» 


pines 


#7 We =e 


1891 The Star of Love..... A) 
«1828 Lord Lisle’s Daughter... 

1838 A Woman’s Vengeance. 25 
+1843: Dream Faces... 2.0.0.5 55 25 
1873 The Story of an Error.. 25 
1415 Weaker than a Woman. 25 
1628 Love Works Wonders... 25 
2010 Her Only Sin...... FAW pune 
2011 A Fatal Wedding........ 25 


25 


2012 A Bright Wedding-Day.. 25 
2013 One Against Many...... 25 
2014 One False Step.......... 25 
2015 Two Fair Women....... 25 


2068 Lady Latimer’s Escape, _ 
and Other Stories...... 25 


Fredrika Bremer. 
187 The Midnight Sun.......*25 


Charlotte Bronte. 


95 Jane Byre.. sscec. eds. Rub 
57 Shirley........ Sceiha bd he pO 
944 The Professor.... ...... 25 
Rhoda Broughton. 
FO, POLRA AE 5 cuit oss visa siierere 25 
{ 101 Second Thoughts....... pt) 
POT RINATIOW A Uo. t\\ ae ote aieeieu aves 25 


645 Mrs.Smith of Longmains 25 


758 ‘*‘Good-bye, Sweet- 
hidartls Oy ves wes cs 25 
%65 Not Wisely, But Too Well 25 
MOG POM ahs) socek's eee Weta ney 25 
%68 Red as a Rose is She. 25 
769 Cometh Upas a Flower. 25 
862 Betty’s Visions.......... #25 
894 Doctor Cupid............ *25 
1599 Alas 1, eeceees eee . @eeeee .*25 
Louise de Bruneval. 
1686 Sceur Louise............. #25 
Robert Buchanan. 
145 ‘*Storm- Beaten:’? God 
and The Man............ 25 
154 Annan Water...:........ #25 
181 The New Abelard. ..... #25 


268 aoe ‘eopset dom of Mad. 


Ce ee ae 


468 The Shadow ofthe Sacha eon 
646.The Master of the Mine.*25 
892 That Winter Night; or, 


Love's Victory...... AP s< 33 
1074 Stormy Waters.......... #25 
1104 The Heir of Linne....... *25 
1850 Tiove Me Forever........ 25 


1455 The Moment After...... #25 


John Bunyan. 


1498 The Pilgrim’s Progress.. 25 


Books marked thus* are at present in Alliaator covers. 


iy 


Captain Fred Burnaby. | 
330 ‘* Our Radicals”......6.0*2 | 
375 A Ride to Khiva......... 25. 
884 On Horseback Through 

Asia Minors 20) oo ce.0005 25 


John Bloundelle-Burton, - 


918 The Silent Shore; or, 
The. Mystery of St. 


James’ Park...... pula 
Beatrice M. Butt. 

1854 Delicia vnc ies eke #25 
E. Lasseter Bynner. 
1456 Nimiportsocuse sbeeees #25 
1460 Tritons toes ve Goes hee hex 425 


Lord Byron. 
719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrim- Pes 


E. Fairfax Byrrne. 


521) Entangled 23. eae ¥25 - 

5388. A Fair Country Maid... .*25 
Mrs. Caddy. 

127 Adrian Bright...,..:....*25 


Hall Caine. 


445 The Shadow of a Crime. 25 
520 She’s All the World to 


WEG iahod ties st ates eile ats ; 
1234 The Deemster..... Sialevatla Meee 
1255 The Bondman....... ... 20 
2079 A Son of Hagar......... 2 
Mona Caird. 
1699 The Wing of Azrael..... #25 
Ada Cambridge. 
1583 A Marked Man.......... 25 
1967 My Guardian.......... ¢.*25 


2189 The Three Miss Kings... 25 


Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron. 
595 A North Country Maid.. 25 


796 In a Grass Country...... 25 
891 Vera Nevill; or, Poor 
Wisdom’s Chance. ;.... #25 
912; Pure Golds gscves re 
963 Worth Winning ......... 25 
1025 Daisy’s Dilemma........ 


1028 A Devout ventana or, A 
Wasted Love...:.s.ce06+ 20 
1076 A Life’s Mistake ......: 


1204 The Lodge by the Sea:. es 
4905 A Bost Wifes iets, 25 
1286 Her Father’s Daughter... 25 


1261 Wild George's Daughter. 26 
1290 The Cost of a Lie........ 

1292 Bosky Dell....:.... pha 5 
1782 A Dead Past... ..0.....- #25 
1819 Neck or Nothing.........*20 


aanay Colin Eas wou. 


"1825 Darell Blake............. #25 


; Rosa Nouchette Carey, 
915 Not Like Other Girls. ...25 
396. Robert Ord’s Atonement 25 
551 Barbara MHeathcote’s 


iE aes wel eee ene a5 
GUS TOM. LINAS.) Us coin ay a Peas) 
930 Uncle Max...... At aR ASS tis 25 
932 Queenie’s Whim........ 20 
934 Wooed and Married..... 25 
986 Nellie’s Memories....... 25 
06) Wee Wifle. ..6c..5 foes 25 
1033 Esther: A Story for Girls 25 
1064 Only the Governess..... 25 
1135 Aunt Diana.,......3..... 20 
1194 The Search for Basil 
Tiynanursee) Au yo 25 
1208 Merle’s Crnsade.......... 25 
1545 Lover or Friend?.....2.. 25 
1879 Mary St.John........... 25 
TOR AMOUIL Gio Boe wed ould onee hes 25 
1966 Our Bessie .........2.54. 5 
1968 Heriot’s Choice........, 25 
William Carleton. 
1493 Willy Reilly ......0..05% 25 


1552 Shane Fadh’s Wedding.; 25 
1553 LarryMcFarland’s W ake 25 
1554 The Party Fight and 


PUREED cok tes Maes tk 25 
1556 The Midnight Mass..... #25, 
Toor hil Pureel |e es #05 
1558 An Brish Oath.:. 0.05. + ROS 
1560 Going to Maynooth:..... #25 


1561 Cs ae O’Toole’s COUN 


ee | 


Seneide! shah dete esta aren se IN 25 
1564 Neal Malone.....:....... #25, 
Alice Comyns Carr. 
571 Paul Crew’s Story....... #25 


Lewis Carroll. 


462 Alice’s Adventures in 
Wonderland. Illustrated 
by John Tenniel......-. 25 

789 Through the Looking- 
Glass. and What Alice 
Found There. Dlustra- 
ted by John Tenniel.... 25 


Cervantes. 

1576 Don Quixote ....,... Rte 
L. W. Champney. 

1468 Bourbon Lilies.,......... *25 


Erckmann-Chatrian. 


829 The Polish Jew. (Trans- 


lated from the French | 
by Caroline A. Merighi.) 25 


y Books marked thus * are at present in Alligator covers. 


see NE iss 


1516 Samuel Broh! & Co,..... #25 
Mrs. Cc. M. Clarke, fis 


1801 More True than Truthtul#. 


W. i. Clemens, 


1544 Famous Funny Fellows.*25 


Mrs. W. K. Clifford. 
546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime...... 25. 
2104 Love Letters of a Mae 
ly Woman oii oes: " 
J. Maclaren Cobban, 


485 Tinted Vapours...,..0.. #25 
1279 Master of His Fate..... /*25 
1511 A Reverend Gentleman.*25 


John Coleman. 
504 Curly: An Actor’s Story an 
©. R. Coleridge. 


403 An English Squire....... #25 
1689 A Near Relation. ..i..... #25 
Beatrice Collensie. 
1852 A Double Marriage......*25 


Mabel Collins. 
749 Pom Vanecourt’s Daugh- he 


828 The Prettiest Woman in 
AV AESANW Y iieloae dade sees 

1468 Ida: An ‘Adventure in 
Moroeeo 2s sass #25 


_ Wilkie Collins. 

52 The New Magdalen...... 25 
102 The Moonstone...... .. 25 
167 Heart and Seience.. .... 25 
168 No. Thoroughfare. By 

Dickens and Collins. ...*#25 
175 Love’s Random Shot, 

and Other Stories...... 25 
233 “*I Say No;” or, The 

Love-Letter Answered. 25 
508 The Girl at the Gate.... 25 


591 The Queen of Hearts..... 25. 


613 The -Ghost’s Touch, and ~ 
Percy and the Prophet.*25 
25 


623 My Lady’s Money....... 

701 The Woman in White... 25 
702 Man and Wife. ...66..2.4 25 
%64 The Evil Genius.....3... 25 
896 The Guilty River. «..... *Q5 
946 The Dead Seeret......0. 25 
977 The Haunted Hotel..3.. 25 | 
1029: Armadale i yak aks ae 25 
1095 The Legacy of Cain. .... 23 
1119 No Namey ee Oe aay 25 
1269 “Blind Lowen sees aca “25 
1347 A Rogue’s Lifes. fe... 25 


1608 Tales of Two Idle Ap- 
prentices. By Dickens 
and Collins......, da snuetn 


a 


ga 


2072. For Marjorie’s Sake.. 


“e 


“THE SEASIDE ‘LIBRARY, at 


Vis 


Beis ™M. J. earannea: 
624 Primus in Indis.,........ * 
1469 Every Inch a Soldier ....*25: 


Lucy Randall Comfort. 


| 25 
Hugh Conway. 
240 @alled Back..i.cc5. 0.52. 25 


251 The Daughter of the 

Stars, and Other Tales.. age 
302 The Blatchford Bequest 435 
841 A Dead Man’s Face..... 25 


502 Oarriston’s Gift.......... * 
525 Paul Vargas, and Other 
RUOTICSe ii sceou epee eke PD 
543 A Family Affair......... 25 
601 Slings and Arrows, and 
Other Stories. ..62..... *O5 
711 A Cardinal Sin.......... 
804 Living or Dead.....0.... 25 
830 Bound by a Spell........ *25 
ASOS CA TONE won Ree #25 
1684 Story of a Sculptor....:. #25 
1722 Somebody’s Story....... *25 


3d. Fenimore Cooper. 
60 The Last of the Mohi- 


GANR a Vain dei eek vee oo 25 
OS TNO PPV chore. ses asareces 25 
i309 The Pathfinder dake wovraey 25 
BlO NS Prainiey sc ced cuciicwss 25 

818 The Pioneers; or, The 
; Shh of the Susque- be 
349 The. Two Admirals...... 25 
359 The Water-Witch........ 25 
861 The Red Rover..... Save aD 
873 Wing and Wing......... 25 

378 Homeward Bound; or, 
Phe Chases ee ae 25 


379 Home as Found. (Sequel 
to ‘Homeward Bound”) 25 
880 Wyandotte; or, The Hut- 
POG KNOW SS sip ee taint es 25 
885 The Headsman: or, The 
' Abbaye des ambi 25 
BVASENG BIAVO isn seckobesias 25 
897 Lionel Lincoln; or, The 
Leaguer of Boston..... 
400 The Wept of Wish-Ton- 
ANTON atic sue isch 4. ea ae ue 25 
413 Afloat and Ashore....... 25 
414 Miles Wallingford. (Se- 
* Afloat and He 
415 The Ways of the Hour, .#25 
416 Jack Tier; or, The Flor- 
TOA ROOT Sas esiss sh s40 bee 
419 The Chainbearer; or, The 
Littlepage Manusceripts*25 
420 Satanstoe; or, The Little- 
page Manuscripts. bwe'a Mew 


Books marked thus * are at present in Alligator covers, 
been 


he 


421 The Hadeitnes | ROP, © ter Sak ny 
' dian and Injin. Being ©) 
the conclusion of the. 
Littlepage Manuseriptst25 
407 Precangonl.: vac csnetes #25 
423 The Sea Lions; or, The 
Lost Sealers 25 
424 Mercedes of Castile; or, 
The Voyage to Cathay.. 25 
425 The .Oak-Openings; or, 
The Bee-Hunter........ 25 
431 The Monikins.....:...... 25 
1062 The Deerslayer; or, The 
First War-Path......... 25 
1170 The Pilot.......... anaes 26 


Marie Corelli. 


1068 Vendetta! or, The Story 
of One Forgotten....... 
VISE eT Helmani eee eee 25 
1329 My Wonderful bie 
1663 Wormwood........6...0- 
2089 The Hired Baby......... 
WISATATAAtR Cc. wcie seers te 25 
21386. A Romance of Two 
Worlds 25 


Kinahan Cornwallis. 


ececeeee 


1601 Adrift With a Vengeance*25 
Madame Cottin. 
1866 Elizabeth.......... eeu. 25 
Georgiana M. Craik. 
450 Godfrey Helstone....... 5 
606 Mrs. Hollyer............. *OF 
1681 A Daughter of the People 25 


Oswald Crawfurd. 
1739 Sylvia Arden A 2) 


R. K. Criswell. 
1584 Grandfather Lickshingle*25 


S. R. Crockett. © 
2095 The Stickit Minister.... 


B. M. Croker. 

207 Pretty Miss Neville 
260 Proper Pride. / 0.01603... 
412 Some One Hlse........... 
1124 Diana Barrington.... 
1607 Two Masters 


May Crommelin. 
452 In the West Countrie... .*25 
619 Joy: or, The Light of 

Cola Home Ford...;...*25 
647 Goblin Gold i 
1327 Midg e 


eeoceee 


eeeses #8 teee 


er 


J 


“POCKET EDITION. 


Pee hala Cc. Gumbertana: 


641 The Rabbi’s Spell...... #25 
Maria S&S. Cummins, 
1984 The Lamplighter........ 25 
Mrs. Dale. 
1806 Fair and False.......... #25 


1808 Behind the Silver Veil. . .*25 


R. H. Dana, JT. 
311 Two Years’ Before the ae 


Masti iis sees cnae x 
Frank Danby. 

1379 The Copper Crash..... . ¥25 
2157 Dr. Phillips.......... Siete 95 
Joyce Darrell. 

163 Winifred Power,........ #25 
Alphonse Daudet, 
BOAO ery a he te a a 25 


574 The Nabob: A Story of 
Parisian Life and Man- 


MIOU A Pa bap aask eee ks Ssh alte 25 
1868 Lise Tavernier......... A Cpe 
1629 Tartarin of Tarascon.... 25 
POGO SIGODIG So ankle cect 5 
1670 The Little Good-for-Noth- om 
2081 Bho staan ues 25 

Cc. Debans. 

1626 A Bneee | in Wolf’s Cloth- 

ing.. Kerge ape Mela whi ae a *25 


Daniel Defoe, 
1812 Robinson Crusoe........ 


R. D’ Ennery- 
242 The Two Orphans....... 


Count De Gobineau. 
1606 Typhaines Abbey..... Jet e0 


Hugh De Normand, 
1454 The Gypsy Queen....... 


Thomas De Quincey. 
1059 Confessions of an En- 
glish Opium-EHater..... 25 
1380 The Spanish Nun........#25 
Earl of Desart,. 


1301 The Little Chatelaine. ...*25 
1817 Lord and Lady Piccadilly*25 


Elsa D’ Esterre-Keeling,. 
882 Three Sisters..... eeu cet ee 
Carl Detlef. 


WOSG NOUS Vietiss Pec cui veaeeeeeteo 
Ale PROKIG b soticce ne sotsenueeste 


25 


»*25, 


Books marked thus* are at presex iaMilties to, covers, 


Charles Dickens 
10 The Old Seles Shop. fe 


22 David rekon fled, ieee 

24 Pickwick Papers.. oS 
37 Nicholas Nickleby...... 25 
4) Oliver) Twist. sc.4.eieceee 25 
77 A Tale of Two Oe 25 
84 Hard Times.. ae wid i 
91 Barnaby Rudge.. eee ere 25 
94. Little Dorrit... 02.0... 25 
106 Bleak House............ 25 
107 Dombey and Son........ 25 


108 The Crieket on the 
Hearth, and Doctor Mar- 
olds rg eee 

131 Our Mutual Friend..... 25 

132 Master Hum phrey’ g 
Clock #25 


ee ee) 


oe | 


168 No “Pharonehtare: By 
Dickens and Collins. ...*25 
169 The Haunted Man.:... <2 
437 Life and Adventures of 
Martin Chuzzlewit.. 
439 Great Expectations mya 
440 Mrs, Lirriper’ s Lodgings*25 
447 American Notes. ....... #25 
448 Pictures From Italy, and 
The Mudfog Papers, &c*25 
454 The Mystery of Edwin 
DPOOG? 252025 ae oes 7 
456 Byetchen by Boz. Tilus- 
trative of Every-day 
Life and Every-day re 


People si vane nes 
676 a har s History of Eng: 
BOE Ce Deis he Ree Late the 

731 The Boy at Mugby....... 


1520 pin ietaah of Young Cou. 


1529 the Haunted House, ete. 2s 
1533 A Christmas Carol, ete.. 25 
1541 Somebody’s Luggage... #25 
1608 Tales of Two Idle Ap- 
prentices. By aehes 
and Coblinst).i./is 3 iede Peo 


Rt. Hon. Benjamin Disrae 
eli, Earl of Beaconsfield. 
793 Vivian Greysrrereceveees 20 


Author of ** Dr. Edith Rome 


ney.’’ 
612 My Wife’s Niece.........#25 


Sarah Doudney- 


338 The Family Difficulty. ..*25 
679 Where Two Ways Meet.*25 


Richard Dowling. 
1829 Miracle Gold, 2999099009 gS 


ae 


ce] 


ANY 


Edmund Downey. 


| 1746 A. House of ‘Tears. :.....*25 
1793 In One Town......... ARN 5) 


A. Conan Doyle. 


1305 The Firm of Girdlestone 25 
1894 The White Company.... 25 


1980 A Study in Scarlet...... 25 

2077 The Captain of the ‘‘Pole- 
SER Was b nie aah Geass 

2092 Beyond the City........ 25 


2093 A Scandal in Bohemia... 25 
2094 The Sign of the Four... 25 
2103 The Mystery of Cloomber 25 
2109 Micah Clark............% 25 
2152 The Surgeon of Gaster 
Fell 20 


Edith Stewart Drewry. 
1846 Baptized With a Curse. .*25 


Henry Drummond. 


1813 The Sr) yo Thing in 
the W. OVI ere Ree ek *O 


FE. Du Boisgobey. 


#82 Sealed: LAPS kas ges ese oe 25 
104 The Coral Pin .......... 25 
264 resetugam a leak De- ae 


ee ee ey 


453 The: Pattons Ticket...... 25 
475 che Prima Donna’s Hus- 


ee ee ee | 


B22 Zig. ie: the Clown; or, 
The Steel Gauntlets... 25 


523 The Consequences oh a 


Duel. <A Parisian Ro- 
MBNCOLC Ears exe oe eee. 25 
648 The noel of the Bells.. 25 
697 The Pretty Jailer....... 25 
699 The Seeaaeiisit Daugh- 
ter. ee eee eoeoecoee eee 
"82 The Closed Dose USM EE 25 
851 The Cry of Blood......-. 25 
918 The Red Band........... 95 
942 Cash on Delivery........ 25 
1076 bie ety, of an Omni- ag 
1080 Bertha’ sSecrety. 6050.3, 25 


1082 The Severed Hand...... 25 
1085 The Matapan Affair. ... 25 
1088 The Old Age ii Mon- 
Sieur \LeCOd .... ese es 6s. 20 
1730 The Blue Veil... ....... 25 
1762 The Detective’s Eye..... 25 
1765 The Red Lottery Ticket. 25 
1777 A Fight for a Fortune... 25 


Books marked thus* are atpresent it Alligator covers, 


Pa aaa 


he Duchess”> 
2 Molly Bawn..........05. ay 


GO Porhiat ire ee Kip ita eae 
14 Airy Fairy Lilian. be Reba ans hae 
16 Phyllis ...... Pape N e AG A 
25 Mrs. Geoffrey. . haba ae 
29 Beauty’s Daughters. Usage 25 
30 Faith and Unfaith....... 25 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, 
and Eric Dering....... 25 

119 Monica, and A Rose Dis- 
GES Se ee 25 
123 Sweet is True Love...... 25 
129 Rossmoyne.....,.......5 25 

134 The Witching Hour, and 
Other Stories... ......... 25 

136 ‘* That Last Rehearsal,” 
and Other Stories...... 26 


171 tartans’ s Wheel, and 
Other Stories........... 25 
DBA DOGS: Foie suse diate cote 25 


3812 A Week’s Amusement; 
or, A Weekin Killarney 3) 
342 The Baby, and One New 


Wear's Hyeiioie) uel: 25 
890 Mildred Trevanion...... 265 
404 In Durance Vile, and 
Other Stories...... SER 5 | 
486 Dick’s Sweetheart....... 25 
494 A Maiden All Forlorn, 
and Barbara. 2.3.63 0.22. 25 
517 A Passive Crime, ‘and 
Other Stories.......... 25 
541 ** As It Fell Upon a Day” 25 
733 Lady Branksmere. ..... 25 
[71 A Mental Strugele....... 25 


“85 The Haunted Chamber . 25 
862 Ugly Barrington.. ...... 25 
875 Lady Valworth’s Dia- 


MOnds Sts aes ae 
1009 In an Evil oars and 

Other Stories......... Me 
1016 A Modern Circe......... 25 
10385 The Duchess o«ce...-s- $0) 25 
1O4f) Marvel eS Ne 25 
11038 The Honorable Mrs. 

Vereker oiiicovdie aie: : 
11283 Under-Currents......... . @ 


1197 ** Jerry.”’—‘* That Night 
in June.” — A Wrong 
Turning. — Irish 5 
“and Marriage.......... 

1209 A Troublesome Girl..... 25 

1249 A Life’s Remorse.... 

1333 A Born Coquetté........ 2 

1363 .‘‘ April’s Lady ”......... 23 

1453 Her Last Throw......... 25 


1862 A Little Irish Girl, eeeees 25° 


1891 A Little Rebel....cccsese % 


poe: Sook ean ie eos 


(ss 2B 


Pate dander inane: ei 


55 The Three Musketeers., 25 
75 Twenty Years After....: 25 

262 The Count of Monte- 
OVISER PAE Li Vs: 25 

262 The Count. of Monte- 
Cristo. Part II 

717 Beau Tancrede; or, The 
Marriage Verdict einer a 25 

1058 Masaniello: or, The Fish- 
erman of Naples MBN ae 25 
1340 The Son of Monte-Cristo 2 

1642 Monte- Cristo and His 


Wife. A Sequel to the 
“Count of Monte- 
TISHOS awe lochs en ae 25 
1645 The Countess of Monte- . 
OTIGtON tau c ke A AEP ORN Ge 25 
TOO GORING L Visit oer eau es 25 
2062 The Watchmaker.....:. 25 
2063 The Russian Gipsy...... Ro 
2064 The Vicomte de Brage- 
IONNG Lass ees SPR epy bss 


2065 Ten Years Later........ 25 
2066 Louise de la Valliere. va paeD 
2067 The Man in the Iron 
Sa vic Sa ate ee 25 
2075 The Twin Lisatendnts 25 
2076 The Page of the Duke of 
BIBVOV) ob chee ekicicdnaln 6 25 
2096 Madame de Mailiy. Se- 


quel to “Olympe de 

OIesee eae tae el oe, 25 
2110 The Two Dianas.-...... 25 
2111 The Black Tulip......... 25 
2112 Olympe de Cléves....... 25 


2113 The Chevalier d Harmen- 
cat or, The Conspira- me 
2114 The. Regent's Daughter. 25 
2115 Marguerite de Valois... 25 
2116 La Dame de Monsoreau R 
or, Chicot the Jester... 25 
2117 The eee Five Guards: 


2118 Hosagh Balsamo. ....... 25 
2119 Memoirs of a Physician 25 
2120 The Queen’s Necklace.. 25 
2121 Ange Pitou; or, Taking 
the Bastile ; ;. or, Six 
Years Later: 25.0.2... 25 


2122 The Countess de Charny 25 
2123 Andrée de Taverney.... 25 
2124 The Chevalier de Maison 
UOT Oircivsiceaecabicrs vette 25 
2125 The First Republic; or, 
The Whites and the 
HBTS ics oo ee fineis Sees 25 
2126 The Company of Jehu.. 25 
2127 The she-Wolves of Ma- 
haere or, The Last . 
Vendé 
A128 The ran BE Brothers... 25 


Books marked thus* are at presentite Maier covers, 


2134 Rdmiond Dantew.....6... 25 
2138 The Son of Porthos, .... > er 


Sara Jeanette Duncan. 
1852 An American Girlin Lon- 


ee a er a a) 


don 
2137 A Social Departure. ase, pO 


George Ebers, 


474 Serapis. An Historical 
Novell Meares whites 25 


O88 Vardar ices ire aes ae 25 


1056 The Bride of ihe Nile... 25 
1094"“Homo: Sum’. yes Sule 25 
1097 The Burgomaster’s Wife 25 


1101 An Egyptian Princess,.. 25 : 


1106 The Emperor..........2. 25 
1412 Only a Words .2sy.<2 25 
1114. The Sisters: 0c... oa. 20 


1198 Gred of Nuremberg, A 
Romance of the Fif- 


teenth Century......:.. 25 
1266 Joshua: A Biblical Pict- 
MILO oo ces Noe ontalah auton tom 
Maria Edgeworth. 
708 Ormond 08. os. Haas #25 
788 The Absentee. An okede 
Story eos vegeae tan 
Amelia B. hivarae 
99 Barbara’s History...... - 20 
354 Hand and Glove......... #25 


1364 My Brother's Wife.......725 
Mrs. Annie Edwards, 


644 A Girton Girl. ou... Leo 
834 A Ballroom Repentance. 25 
835 Vivian the Beauty....... 25. 
§86 A Point of Honor. ....... #25 


837 A Vagabond Heroine... ,*25 
888 Ought We. to Visit Her?..*25 
8389 Leah: A Woman oF 


Hashion. soe seated 
841 Jet: Her Face or iar 

Fortune?:...... SSBTARE 
842 A’ Blue-Stocking.....0.2. #QH 
843 Archie Lovell..... ie iat aim #25) 
844 Susan Fielding. ..f...... #25 


845 Philip Earnscliffe ; or, 


The Morals of May Fairs2h. 


846 Steven Lawrence,....... 
850 A Playwright’s Piven 


Hi. Sutherland Edwards. 
917 The Case of Reuben Ma- 


lachi ee eee #QB ; 


Mrs. C. J. Eiloart, 
114 Some of Our Girls...... 25 
George Eliot. 


8 The Mill on the Floss.... 25 : 


81 Middlemarch....5-i..... 29 
34 Daniel Deronda......... 25 
86 Adam Bede..-.... doKeateteo 


FRA ~ S 5 
A 


AQIROMOl A a rh ote 25 
693 Felix Holt. the Radical. 25 
WF Silas Marner: The 


Weaver of Raveloe . 25 

728 Janet's Repentance...... 2825 
762 Impressions. of ~Theo- 

phrastnus Such......2... *O5 

1441 Amos Barton... .3. 220.055 *25 
1501 The Spanish Gypsy, and 

Other Poems........... 95 

1504 Brether Jacob.....0....: #25 


Frances Elliot. 


881 The Red Cardinal....... #25, 
Eva Evergreen. 
1858 Agatha.-...... PEPER MCLANE ti) 


Juliana Horatia Ewing. 
752 Jackanapes, and Other 


Btoriags he #25 
Kate Eyre, 
1804 A Step in the Dark...... *25 
Olive P. Fairchild. 
1800 A Choice of Chance..... *O5 
1802 A Struggle for Love..... *25 


H. Farley. 
1625 Christmas Stories....... 25 


BR, LL. Farieon, 
£479 Little Make-Believe......*25 


573 Love’s Harvest.......... *25 
607 Self-Doomed........0..8. 25 
616 The Sacred Nugget......*25 
657 Christmas Angel........ #25 


907 The Bright Star of Life.*25 
909 The Nine of Hearts... #25 
1383 The Mystery of M. Felix.*25 
PRIS Gautranicny hein es #25, 
1735 A Very Young Couple. ..*25 


1790 A. Secret jearencennateas #25 
1791 Basil and Annette.......*25 
1812 Merry, Merry Boys, peat #25 


eee ewe Bowsers nene 


Pardon *25 
1890 Toilers "of Babylon. ee tap 


Heinrich Felbermann. 


355 The Princess Dagomar 
OL POlAMNG, sexs caine se shoes *2) 
G. Manville Fenn, : 
193 The Rosery Folk. ../.... #5 
558 Poverty Cor NOP... cress *O5 
587 The Parson o’ Dumford.*25 
609 The Dark House......... 25 
1169: Commodore Junk....... #2 


1276 The Mynns’ Mystery.. 145 


Books marked thus * are at present in Alligator covers, 


1293 In yeaieray. GR aya es *25 
1302 es Apes of the Spica 


1318 Eve at the Wheel. se 
1344 One Maid’s Mischief... 725". 
1387 Bli’s Ohildren,........05. +5 


1694 The Bag of Diamonds..:*25 
1748 The Haute Noblesse..... *25 
1749 Story of Anthony Grace.*25 
1788). Black. Bloodaxe rene 25 
1799 Lady Maude’s Mania. ...#25 
1815 A Double Knot...... Eom 
1824 A Mint of Money........*25 


Octave Feuillet, 
66 The Romance of a Poor 


Young Mans... 00.028 25 
886 Led <Astray;:. or, ‘* La 
Petite Comtesse ’’...... 25 


1427 A Marriage in High Life 25 


Gertrude Forde. 


1072. Only a Coral Girl........ *25 
1849 In the Old Palazzo....... #25 


R. KE. Forrest. 
879 The Touchstone of Peril.*25 


Mrs. Forrester. 


BOL TUNG: seals ale vane e eae 25 
280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale 
OL SOCICbY Vii eke eae 
484 Although He Was a 
Lord, and Other Tales.*25 
715 I Have Lived and ries 
72) DOMres ie ae aes 
724 My Lord and My Lady... 98 


MOG My Herod kt Wice yee eee 25 
"27 Fair Women........:..-- QB is 
CO SON os eat bee aeen 25 
732 From Olympus to"Hades*25 
(34 MANA Ce Ae ean es *25 
736 Roy and Viola. .i..5.2..%25 
740 Rhona. . Hee {NSS 
744 Diana Carew: or, ‘For a 
Woman’s Sake......... 
883 Once Again... oo... 8... *25 


1637 A Young Man’s Fancy.. 25 


Jessie Fothergill, 


814 |Periby ns os ae Ge ltewes 25 
BTS HLCale Vy As alse te sen melee 25 
935: Borderland Ai f05 Aces #25 


| 1099 The Lasses of Lever- 


NOUSEi 4s) Soe i KIA eee 
1275 A March in the Ranks... 25 
187%: The First Violin.......... 25 
1843 ‘Kith and Kin.............20 
#25 


Francesca, 
53 The Story of Ida,. eee A aee 


AES a) i 


2107 Jacob Faithful. By alsa 

Re PREY Lin etl» Via euae helm ehens 

2108 Reveries of a Bachelor. "By 

ae DH MEADVOR Co eo Ue Chase lnaeite lees 
Mend. el09 a Clarke. By A. Conan oh 
Bn ee Sm RPU IN LOO ooh 1G awn 6 bible Wie o 0.eleae O08 we) 

. 2110 Two Dianas, The. By Alex- 
atider Dumas. .............- + 25 

2111 Black Tulip, The. By Alex- 
BAGOY PUMAR fe hhc eg woes sees 2% 

_ 2112 Olympe de Cléves. By Alex- 
ander Dumas) ce ov, MeN Lan, 25 

- 2113 Chevalier d’Harmental, The; 

; or, The Conspirators. By Al- 
Ae y exander Dumas..........+.4. 25 

Nat “atid Regent’s Daughter, The. By 
. Alexander Dumas..........4. 25 

2115 Marguerite de Valois. By Al- 
exander Dumas.............. 25 


» 2116 La Dame de Monsoreau; or, 


Chiecot the Jester. By Alex- 
MMM IIIA) oon ics aie esc velold te 25 
ent? Forty-Five Guardsmen, The, 
Pri 3 By Alexander Dumas........ 25 
> 2118 Joseph Balsamo. By Alexan- 
ee MSE UURAB eh eles. ae oelstoa sce 20 
2119 Memoirs of a Physician, By 
ay Alexander Dumas............ 25 
j 2120 Queen’s Necklace, The. By 
= . Alexander Dumas BOAT nets ataee 20 
H Q121 “Ange Pitou ; Taking ‘the 
Bastile; or, ‘gfx "Years Later. 
By Alexander DUNS. Sees (Rb 
2122 Countess de Charny, The. By 
Alexander Dumas . ..:...... 20 
- 2128 Andrée de Taverney. By Al- 
éxander Dumas.............. 25 
R124 Chevalier de Maison Rouge. 
By Alexander Dumas........ 25 
R125 First Republic, The; or, The 
Whites and thé Blues. By 
Alexander Dumas...........5 25 
e126 Company of Jehu, The. "By 
Alexander Dumas.... ....... 25 


j <3 ae She Wolves of Machecoul, The; 


a ee for two dollars. Address 


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2135 Hunchback of Notre Dame. (4 
The, By Victor Hugo........ Pia ie 
2136 Romance of Two Worlds, A. 9 9) 
By Marie Corelli eel els oes 6 ee oe 2D .? hie 
2187 Social Departure, A. By Sara Pane 
Jeannette Duncan....,....... Dy pik ee Se 
2138 Son of Porthos, The. By Al- UR OR 
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2139 Three Miss Kings, The, By biue 
Ada Cambridge.....0.0. 0000: 25 
2140 asia Royal, By Anthony 5s 


2141 Dream Life. By Ik, Mar vel... 25, 
2142 Tales of Mean Streets. By Ar i 
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2144 Poems by Oscar Wilde.....,4. 95> | 
2145 ewe inb The. By Jules 


Socrae of the Island, The. By | ue 
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2149 Toilers of the Sea, By Victor 

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2150 Beside the Bonnie Brier. Bush. 
2151 Uncle Tom’s Cabin. 


By Ian Maclaren 

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2152 Surgeon of Gaster Fell, The, atelE 

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The foregoing works are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any >” fi 


' .1-A Yellow Aster. ‘‘ Iota.” 

2 Esther Waters. Geo. Moore. 

8 The Man in Black. Stanley 
J. Weyman. 

» 4 Dodo. #. F, Benson. 

5 Ships that Pass in the Night. 
Beatrice Harraden. 

6A sere Life. Wilkie Col- 
ins. 

7 The Duchess. ‘“The Duchess.”’ 

8 Called Back. Hugh Conway. 

9A Wicked Girl. Mary Cecil 


Hay 
10 Back io the Old Home. Mary 


Cecil Hay 

maa Wedded x eet Parted. Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. 

12 The Bag of Diamonds. G. 
Manville Fenn. 

18 The Octoroon. Miss M. E. 
Braddon 

14 A Study in eadclor: A. Conan 


Doyle. 
15 rorene the Fetters. Mrs, 


- Alexander, 
16 My Lady’s Money. Wilkie 
Collins. 
1% The Shadow of a Sin, Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. 
18 The Cricket on the Hearth. 
* > Charles Dickens. 
19 The Squire’s Darling, Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. 
20 Singleheart and Doubleface. 
. Charles Reade. 
21 Lady Grace. Mrs. Henry 


; Wood. 
22 Maid, Wife or Widow? Mrs. 
Hed Alexander. 
23 Black Beauty. Anna Sewell. 
24. Ideala. Sarah Grand. 
'25 Camille. Alexander Dumas. 
26 Her: Last Throw. * The 
~ Duchess.”? 
27 Three Men in a Boat. J. K. 
Jerome. 
28 The Honorable Mrs. Vereker. 
e Duchess.”’ 
29 The House of the Wolf. Stan- 
‘ley. J. Weyiman, 
3U Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Row- 
son 
31 The Shattered Idol. Char- 
‘ lotte M. Braeme, 
82 Derrick Vaughan—Novelist. 
> Hdna Lyall. 
83. The Mystery of No. 13. Hel- 
en B: Mathers. 


* Bt He Went for a Soldier. John 


Strange Winter. 


85 The Haunted Chamber, ‘‘The 
Duchess.’’ 

86 Cleverly Won. HawleySmart. 

87 Doris’s Fortune. Florence 
Warden. » 

88 Dinna Forget. J. S. Winter, 

39 The Earl’s Biased Charlotte 
M. Brae 

40 A Golden ‘Heart, Charlotte 


41 Her 01 Only. “Sin, Charlotte M. 
ra 
42 The Idle Thoughts of an Idle 
Fellow. J. K. Jerome. 
43 In ren aa Vile. ** The Duch:- 


44 A Little Rebel. ‘* The Duch- 


ess.” 

45 A Little Trish, Girl. ‘The 
Duchess.’ 

46 Loys, Lord Berresford. “The 
Duchess.” 

47 The Moment After. Robert 
Buehanan. 

48 A Marriage at Sea. W. Clark 
Russell. 

49 A Mad Love. Author of ‘*Lov- 
er and Lord.” q 

50 The Other Man’s Wife. John 
Strange Winter, 

51 On Her Wedding Morn. C, 
M. Braeme. 

52 Stage-Land. Jerome K. Je- 
rome. 

53 Struck Down. Hawley Smart. 

54 AStaranda Heart. florence 
Marryat. 

55 Sweet is True Love. ‘*The 
Duchess,”’ 

56 The Two Orphans. D’Ennery.. 

57 A Troublesome Girl. ‘* The 
Duchess.”’ 

58 Two Generations. Count Lyof 
Tolstoi. 

59 At the Green Dragon. Bea- 
trice Harraden. 

60 Singularly Deluded. Sarah 
Grand. 

61 ean, Baby. Marie Cor- 


62 The Tour of the World in 80 
Days. Jules Verne. 

63 Little Pilgrim, A, Mrs. Oli- 
phant. 

64 By the Gate of the Sea.' D. 
Christie Murray. 

65 Maiden Fair, A. Charles Gib- 


on, 
66 Romance of a Poor Young 
Man, The. Octave Feuillet. 


[ConTINUED ON Next Paae.] 


— 
ops 


sig 


Hy 


“ort The Red Eric, RB, M. Ballan- 


ih 


elk tents ne. 

We Baws Soeline seh Bold, R. M. Bal- 
mh _ lantyne. 

7% Rose Fleming. Dora Russell, 
i a dasa ee a Bachelor. Ik. 
72 Under the Red Flag. Miss M. 
Ke EK. Braddon. 

"3 Little School-master Mark, 
a The. J. H. Shorthouse. 
| 74 Mrs. Carr’s Poa reae Hs M. 
G. Wightwick 
% Diamond Cut Diamond, T, 
Adolphus Trollope. 


ed Monica, and A Rose Distill’d, 


ie “es, * Ouida.”? 
8 Master Humphrey’s Clock, 
Wiles Charles Dickens, 


ee stories. ‘*The Duchess.” 
80 A Great Heiress, R. E, Fran- 


: cillon 

FoE rt That ‘Laut Rehearsal,’ and 
other stories, * The Duch- 
ess.’ 

~ 82 Uncle Tack, Walter Besant.* 
83 The Romantic Adventures of 
- >. aMilkmaid. Thomas Har- 
ah dy. 

Suh 84 A Glorious Fortune, Walter 
Besant. 

x8 85 ote pred Him ! Annie 


bom 
86 One FF Hise: ‘Both Fair. John 
sare . Harwood, 

Be Promises of of Marriage. Emile 
¢ 88 Love Finds tie Way, and oth- 
er stories. Walter Besant 
Fk ie and James Rice. 

C 89 The Captain’s Daughter. 
From the Russian of Push- 


Pa ean 
90 For Himself’ Alone. T. W. 


. Speight. 
91 The Ducie Diamonds. 0, 
.. Blatherwick. 

92 The Starling. Norman Mac- 
ee leod, D.D 


oe Captain Norton’s Diary, and 
gi A Moment of Madness. 


my! __ Florence Marryat. 
‘94 Her. Gentle Deeds. Sarah 
Hye sD yt. tler. 


aye —— os 


brary of Poplar Ne : 


[ConTINUED ON Next Paas.]} 


whi 


95 Moonshine and Marguerites, 


* The Duchess.” 
96 No *Thoroughfare, Wilkie 
Collins and Chas, Dickens, 
97 jr noah Man. Charles 
iek 
98 Fortune i Wheel. “The Duch- 


ess.’ 
99 Love’s Random Shot. Wilkie 
Collins. 


100 An April Day. 
Prittie Jephson. 
101 Be pene Believe, B. Li 


arjeo 

102 eat ae Galley Fire. W. 
Clark Russell. 

1038 The New Abelard. Robert 
Buchanan. 

104 Old Contrairy, and other 
stories. Florence Marryat, 

105 Dita. Lady Majendie. 

106 The scuplon Sun. Fredrika 


Br 


107 Valerie “Fate. Mrs. Alex- 


ander 
108 At the “World's Mercy. F, 
Warden. 
109 The Rosery Folk, George 
Manville Fenn, 


110 ‘*So Near, and Yet So Far!” 
Alison. 

111 A Husband’s Story. 

112 The Fisher Village. Anne 
Beale. 

118 An Old Man’s Love. An- 
thony Trollope. 

114 John Bull and His Island, 
Max O’ Rell. 

115 The Picture. and Jack of All 
Trades. Charles Reade. 


Philippa 


116 The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, | 


and other stories, Flor- 
ence Marryat. 
117 Readiana. Charles Reade, 
118 Lady Clare; or, ‘The Master 
of the Forges. Georges 
Ohnet. 


119 Love and. Money; or, a Per- 
ilous Secret. Chas, Reade, 

120 Miss Tommy. Miss Mulock, 

121 The House on the Marsh, 
FH, Warden. : 

122:The Daughter of the Stars, 
and other tales. Hugh 
Conway. 

123 A Sinless Seeret. ‘* Rita.’ 

124 The Amazon. Carl Vosmaer. 


125 Beyond Recall. Adeline Ser- | 


geant, 


Poon | 1988 The Sue Nia Star, 


i‘ 126 Pigdouche, a French Detect- 
oi ive, F. Du Boisgobey. 
TaN or The Water - Babies. Rev, 
- Charles Kingsley. 


aN Jules 
129 Eyre’ é Acantieak Helen B. 
My Mathers, 

130 Miss Milne and I. Author of 

“A Yellow Aster.’ 
+ 181 Vashti and Esther. By the 
writer of ‘‘Belle’s Letters.’’ 
132 Beyond the City. A. Conan 


Doyle. 

| 138 A Sandal in Bohemia. A, 
Conan Doyle. 

134 The Sign of the Foor. A. 
Conan Doyle. 

135 The Heir of Linne. fiobert 


Buchanan. 

136 Treasure Island. Robert 
Louis Stevenson. 

187 The Stickit Minister. §. R, 
Crockett. 

188 The’ Suicide Club. Roliert 
Louis Stevenson. 

1389 The Merry Men. Robert 
Louis Stevenson. 

140 Prince Otto. 
Stevenson. 

141 The Misadventures of John * 
Nicholson. Robert Louis | 
Stevenson. 

142 An Inland Voyage. Robert,’ 

. Louis Stevenson. 

148 The Silverado Squatters., 
Robert Louis Stevenson, / 

144 The Master of Ballantrae,) 
Robert Louis Stevenson. ‘\ 

146 She’s All the World to Me. | 
Hall Caine. / 

147 My Wonderful Wife! Marie; 

Corelli. : 

148 A Change of Air. 


Hope. 
149 The Dynamiters. 
Louis Stevenson. 
150 Pole on Whist. 
151 The Dolly Dialogues. ue 
thony Hope. 
152 The Hock or the Rye. T. ©. 


De 
158 Auld Licht Tdylls. James: M. 
‘ Barrie. 
154 A Window in Thrums, Jas. 
M. Barrie. 


Anthony/ 
f 
Robert’ 


) -155 When a Man’s Single, Jak, 


M. Barrie. 
- 156 The Peril of Oliver Sargent } 
_.., Edgar Janes Bliss, 


er). 
161 Kidnapped. 


Robert Louis. 4 


172 Dream Life. 


457 My | Lady “Sicotine. James 


arrie. 


# 158 sags Dead. James M. Bar- 


159 The Story of an Atrieat’ A 
Farm Ralph Iron (Olive — 
Schreiner). 

160 Dreams, Bei Tron (Olive 


Schrein 
Robert Louis” 
Stevenson. 


162 The Strange Case of Doctor — MS 
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Rob- © 
ert Louis Stevenson. Ml Seaia 

163 The Mystery of Cloomber, 
A. Conan Doyle. 

164 Love Letters of a Worldly 
Woman. Mrs. W. K, Clif- 


ford, re fh 
165 The Pavilion on the Links.’ 


hhobert Louis Stevenson. 


166 Addie’s Husband, The au- i: 3 
thor of ‘ Love and Lands.” ~ i 


167 The Captain of the ‘' Pole-. 
Star.”?’ A.Conan Doyle. 

168 The Picture of Dorian Gray. A: 
Oscar Wilde. 

169 L’Abbe Constantin, Ludo- | 
vic Halevy,. 


170 Sport Royal. Anthony Hope. SAM 


171 Poems by Oscar Wilde. . 

By Ik. Marvel, 

173 Tales of Mean Streets. are 
thur Morrison, 


174 The Dark House. G. Man- Ht ay 


ville Fenn. : 

175 The Rabbi's Spell. Stuart rah ie 
Cumberland. 

176 Lord Lisle’s Daughter, Char. 
lotte M. Braeme. 

177 The Master of the Mine. 
Robert Buchanan. ; 

178 King Solomon’s Mines. ach 


une? Mrs. Annie Edwards. 
180 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan, 
Robert Buchanan, ~— 
181 Sappho. Alphonse Daudet, 
182 The Tinted Venus. F.Anstey, 
183 A Man of Mark. Anthony 


Ho 
184 The "Secret of Goresthorpe 
Grange. A. Conan rapioe 
184 A ‘Case a beg nvregt i A. Co- 


colds Doyle. ae 
186 Diary of a Pilgrimage. ‘Je 
rome K. Jerome, 


{(Continugp oN 3D Pack oF CoveR.J = ihe! 


jae 


f iM 


